


Pushing Mountains

by metu



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: ?kind of, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Don't worry, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Not Beta Read, Slow Burn, The Sun Always Rises, affectionally called the literal gym au, ah also, all the names are japanese except for the pokémons, but then it stays better, gym instructor!Satoshi, meanly denominated by me the monster i loathe, which is important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-10
Updated: 2020-12-10
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:15:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 33,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27990615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/metu/pseuds/metu
Summary: Gou believes in few, funamental truths - that is, until these truths don't work anymore. His friens and his new neighbour might be of help, or not. It really depends on who you're asking.(it helps)
Relationships: Gou | Goh/Satoshi | Ash Ketchum
Comments: 18
Kudos: 54





	Pushing Mountains

**Author's Note:**

> started making, had a breakdown, bon appetit

Gou believes in few, fundamental truths that have cemented themselves to the foundations of his life so strongly they’re on a par with his heart beating and his stomach digesting: he doesn’t think of them, but they’re still there, existing alongside with his being, following behind like his shadow. 

The first one is that his mornings are sacred, silence and a functioning routine are as necessary to the start of a good day as giving water to a plant is crucial in seeing its survival; he’s known this since he was a child and had to create his own sense of stability when his parents left early in the morning and returned late in the night. 

Then comes the second, learnt after the first two months of middle school, nasty rumors wicking away his benevolence: no matter how hard one tries, people will never fit into just one premade box, expectations are often obsolete and reducing whole humans to few personality traits will always result in a metaphorical drenching that creates nothing but discomfort, for all parties involved. Bullies are not just kids from lost families, girls with twibbons in their hair aren’t only pretty to look at.

The third, the most difficult to swallow down, is that good people are hard to come by. One can be nice, sure, Gou has met a lot of nice and cordial people, and he likes to think he’s one himself: he won’t shy away from helping an old lady carry her bag, or keeping company to a crying child waiting for their parents to come back, it’s just that his first thoughts when these kind of things occur are often _Will I be able to reach the bus stop in time_ or _What if they’re faking it_ , so Gou is quite disillusioned when it comes to people, he doesn’t like to be reminded of this fact, but he also doesn’t really see any point in trying to convince himself of the opposite.

These three precepts are pivotal hinges that allow his life to swing without needing any further oil to lubricate the nails, they have worked fine for twenty four years of existence and have brought him where he is now, Gou doesn’t think he needs anything else: he has a lax employer and a job, which grants him a steady source of income, he has (albeit few) friends with whom he can go out for drinks, and Raboot and Sobble who he counts as partners and make his two rooms apartment feel less empty, more liveable. 

The only negative side of this very precise and tailored arrangement is that whenever one of these cornerstones gets thrown away, is demolished, Gou feels very close to understanding whatever was going on in the mind of that one criminal boss in Sinnoh who made the international news and caused quite the ruckus. 

For this reason, Gou is currently nursing the worst headache he’s ever had, and not even the threat of Sobble’s disappearance because of his stress induced sweating fits can stop him from grumbling and stomping around.

He couldn’t sleep last night: a noisy alarm kept ringing, which caused a chain reaction of wild Pokémon and people alike waking up and shouting for most part of the evening, progressing way past midnight and Gou found himself wide awake at three in the morning, the temptation to smother himself with the very flat pillow he owned higher than he would have liked in any occasion.

It wasn’t anything new, to be honest, because Yamabuki is the biggest city in Kanto and Gou had never lived in small towns to long for the silence a metropolis always lacks, but for one reason or another he simply couldn’t fall asleep, with the earsplitting clangor of the alarm and the barking Growlithe of his neighbour and the Pidgeys all crying and squawking with intent. 

That meant the morning already started with the wrong kind of footing and all he could hope for was to eat something to lift his spirits. Then the rice cooker broke, it was ancient and probably older than him but it still implied a breakfast without rice and the day was ruined. 

_Now, this,_ he thinks, eyeing the moving truck parked outside his building with distaste. There are a few Machokes lifting heavy boxes and no person in sight, Gou already knew that the lady living on his floor moved last week, something about going back to her hometown in the South and enjoying her life as a retired woman with her grandchildren, she even gave him a loaf of bread as a goodbye gift. 

He had hoped for at least a few months of blessed tranquility before a new tenant came in. 

This newfound information doesn’t necessarily put at risk his sacred principles, but he dislikes sudden changes and he liked miss Watanabe well enough, she was very good at baking and her Meowth never bothered Raboot, and since his body is functioning only thanks to a juice box he found in his fridge he thinks he has the right to complain about this new mysterious neighbour. 

Raboot seems to be of the same mind, because he kicks a pebble towards the tire of the truck and scoffs while walking ahead of him, Sobble looks a bit green. 

Gou is glad his anguish is being shared by his Pokémon, too. 

Having already made peace with the fact that this Tuesday was doomed to fail from the beginning he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his jacket, his half empty canvas bag bumping lightly on his thigh with every step. 

Sobble is gripping his ear with one cold paw, the other in a solid grasp on the collar of his shirt, he’s undulating slightly forward, probably enjoying the fresh air. Raboot seems set on in trying to reach the office by foot. 

Gou’s everyday commute includes a five minute walk (or two minutes run if he’s very late) to the closest train station, then a thirty-minute ride and another very short walk until he reaches the Silph Co. skyscraper and then, he’s clocked in. 

He considers himself lucky, because he knows Koharu has to change trains twice and she likes to moan about this specific fact almost daily, no matter how many times Gou tells her to move out of her old apartment. 

He stops at the convenience store in front of the station to buy an onigiri to eat later and Gou can do nothing but roll his eyes when Raboot puts a pack of wasabi flavoured chips on the counter as well.

“Those are bad for you, y’know?” 

Raboot decides to ignore him and waits by the magazine racks next to the exit. Sobble’s skin seems translucent under the neon lights and he turns his head slowly towards the cashier when Gou pays. 

By the time he reaches the building, the sun is finally high in the sky and the jacket begins to feel stuffy over his skin. He slides his magnetic card on the door, greets some of his coworkers and holds the button of the lift to keep it open for them. He eyes the numbers on the panel with distaste, until the four becomes five and he exits. 

The simple topography of the building seems jarring and an hymn to bad taste, it usually doesn’t bother him, but his mood is foul and his stomach is grumbling awkwardly.

Raboot jumps over Gou’s desk, lights up his computer for him and Gou reaches inside his bag to offer him the unnaturally bright green chips bag he bought for the pokémon, who opens it without even thanking him. Sobble settles on top of the monitor, looks at him with those big eyes most people find uncomfortably worried. Gou smiles at him and picks him up.

The first half of the morning is always tedious, he has to check emails and his floor supervisor wants to have an early gathering where they discuss the company’s news and all things Gou happily ignores like get-togethers and the food trucks waiting outside for lunch break, he thinks it’s pretty pointless so he usually zones out, they’re going to have a cram meeting after a few hours anyways. 

Gou wouldn’t usually be so outraged, he feels a bit bad about glaring at the poor person who says good morning to him, but he can’t help it. 

He hopes work will distract him well enough.

“You’re coming tonight, yes?” asks Renji, after they have taken their seats.

Gou’s desk is simple, like most desks are, there is a bowl he fills with water where Sobble likes to disappear and since the recent company’s policy about open spaces and _creating a healthy working environment_ the low three walls that formed his cubicle have been taken down. 

Renji is right beside him, his Magnemite is a plague in and of itself, Raboot probably wants to melt it down, but the blond is nice and always buys another can of coffee for him, Gou has harbored a very embarrassing crush on him once, when he was fresh out of university and Silph Co. just hired him. 

He’s glad it passed because Renji is painfully heterosexual and also, he thinks, not very good as a partner, seeing that he has this weird codependency with Françoise-the-Magnemite, which used to weird him out but Gou pays a monthly subscription to a sport magazine just because Raboot likes to look at the uniforms, so he figures he doesn’t have much room to judge. 

“‘Course, the usual place?” he begins skimming through spam emails and the monthly reports.

“Sure, Kikuna wants to celebrate her promotion.”

“It’s Tuesday, not sure if getting black out drunk is a nice idea,” Gou scoffs, Raboot’s face is completely inside the plastic bag.

Renji shrugs, one shouldered, Gou hates the way his heart flutters, even after a year. The older offers an awkward smile.

“You know how she is,” is all he says, like he should just accept the fact that Kikuna will probably start singing by the time they’ll enter the izakaya.

Gou knows how Kikuna is, it doesn’t explain why he’s always the one in charge of getting her home safely when he doesn’t even have a car, or a license in the first place. 

On one of those occasions, after a late train ride to her block of flats, they had a very heartfelt discussion about coming out of the closet and the looming presence of insistent, old fashioned parents demanding for grandchildren, all the while he had to piggy back her for two flights of stairs. 

Gou doesn’t think she really remembers it, but she stopped asking about girlfriends and they lie on very pacific terms on the secrecy of this confidential information. 

Still, he doesn’t like playing with the threat of being the target of Kikuna’s vomit, especially when he has to go out of his way to make sure she doesn’t get trampled over or worse, kidnapped. Crime rates in Yamabuki are low, but one can never be so sure.

“Whatever, have you already asked Koharu?”

There’s a _clink_ from Renji’s side of the desk and he can see Françoise float distractedly over the lamps hanging from the ceiling.

“Yeah, but she said she couldn’t come.”

“Overtime, again?” Gou closes the email tab and switches the screen to the lines of code he has been working on for the past week.

“No,” says Renji, trying to lure back the Magnemite, “Said she had something else to do, she mentioned a gym? I’m not so sure, was in a hurry,” he lets out a confident noise when Françoise is back in his arms. 

“A gym?” Gou looks perplexed.

“Yeah, apparently there’s one close by, I don’t know.”

Renji doesn't look at him as he starts typing on his own computer, they’re working on the same thing, Silph Co. wants newer, shinier upgrades for Rotom appliances and Gou doesn't understand the need of a washing machine that snaps pictures but he guesses the public wants what the public gets. 

He’ll have to ask her about the gym, later.

* * *

Koharu works in PR, three floors above him, sometimes Gou’s eyes hurt so bad from writing all day on a black computer screen he takes the elevator just to visit and annoy her; they have known each other since elementary school, where he was more obsessed with trying to become the next great sensation of the pokémon world to make sure that his parents would actually notice him than thinking about keeping his grades up. 

Koharu actually helped him a lot on that front, making sure he got the homework and assignments done and giving him a stern talk to in his second year of high school, when he thought of dropping out. 

They lost contact once the summer of their graduation rolled in, because Gou already knew he was moving to Yamabuki and Koharu felt too knotted into the tangle of her father’s laboratory to even think about changing profession. 

She always said that the job she got at Silph Co. was a stand-in for something bigger, but Gou knew what it was like to not like anything enough to consider leaving everything behind and start anew.

They have a weird relationship because of this, they know too much about each other, but oftentimes their conversations get lost in translation and whereas he’s sure they would die for each other, misunderstandings come as easy as snow on mountain peaks. Gou doesn’t think much of it, but he feels guilty for this strained link they have been sharing for two decades. 

He says to Renji, _I have to ask something to Koharu,_ and gets up with a groan, Raboot and Sobble napping tranquilly under his desk. 

He almost steps on a slouching Pangoro on the way, Silph Co. has been hosting a Kalosian delegation and they all have very _distinctive_ pokémon, Gou doesn’t like to judge based on simple appearance but he thinks the Pangoro really wanted to punch him in that moment. 

Thankfully, he reaches Koharu’s desk without losing a limb or acquiring a black eye.

“I don’t have time for you, right now,” is all she says, before Gou can even open his mouth. 

Koharu is very tidy and dislikes chaos, be it mental or physical, and on that they’ve always shared the same mind, her desk is empty, not even a glass bottle or a pencil, she’s currently reading a newspaper from Alola. Yamper is wagging her tail from beneath her legs.

“I actually needed to ask you something about the funding for the new batch of appliances we have,” he’s kneeling next to her chair, mostly to pet her Yamper.

“You should go ask an actual accountant, you know, a person that is in _finance_ ,” Koharu rolls her eyes.

Gou bats his eyes in the way he knows she hates, “But why would I do that when I have you to ask in my place.”

Koharu gives him an unimpressed look but still picks up the phone next to her computer and dials the single number, straight to the finance floor. She scribbles down some letters and then an email address on a pink post-it and gives it to him without sparing a second look.

“You need to stop doing this, I actually have to work here.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he says, giving Yamper a final scratch on the belly and standing up, “Renji told me you won’t be able to come tonight?”

Koharu flips a page from the newspaper, “Yeah, Rika and I are going to this gym and she wants to try zumba now, or something,” she mumbles at the end, making Gou believe it’s not just Rika who wants to try zumba.

“Seriously, for how long have you been going to a _gym_?” 

Koharu huffs, “A few weeks, not even a month, it’s destressing.”

“Didn’t think you’d be into that sort of thing.”

“I’m open to new experiences. Why don’t you come with us? It’s just down the block.”

Gou groans, turns on his heels, “I’ll tell Kikuna you think zumba is more important than her promotion, thanks for the post-it,” he waves his hand goodbye. He can hear Koharu say _whatever, jerk_ before the elevator doors close.

* * *

“To my promotion!” shouts Kikuna for the umpteenth time, jacket long lost and hair rebelling away from the tight, low ponytail she usually styles it into. 

Her face is ruddy because of the alcohol, this is her fourth glass of beer and Gou knows he’ll have to wait for her to throw up in a bush, hoping it won’t be the nest of some wild Rattatas, he’s dreading the time that passes, drips down the side of the windows like the rain that started to fall, and he doesn’t have an umbrella, this day just further proves his theory of sacred mornings and apocalyptic futures.

They’re huddled close inside the izakaya they go to almost every night, it’s cheap and most of the food is subpar at best, but they make the tastiest fried yuba in the whole city (according to Gou, he’s impartial to the agedashi tofu, too), plus the waiter has a crush on Kikuna, so they often offer her drinks and considering that she’s like a sailor when it comes to beer, it’s a considerable expense on their part.

Raboot is munching on some gomae, while Sobble is nodding off and Renji sheepishly draws the bamboo divisor to shield the other patrons from Kikuna’s screams.

“C’mon, what’re those long faces for,” she drawls.

Kikuna’s older than all of them, usually very composed and serious, but whenever they go out to celebrate something, or even because it simply is tradition by now, she transforms into this giggling mess who wants to hug everyone and kiss their cheeks, too.

She throws an arm over Renji’s neck and brings him closer to her, “Where’s Koharu?” she pouts.

“We already told you, she’s with—

“She’s with Rika! To the gym, yes,” she interrupts him, giggling and picking up some pickles with wobbly chopsticks. Françoise looks as nervous as Renji is.

“I miss Koharu,” she then says and Gou knows it’s his turn to intervene.

“Tell us about your promotion, again,” he has to move away before Kikuna spills more beer (or is it saké, he can’t really understand) on his only nice pair of pants. 

The woman’s face brightens up immediately and she starts this very convoluted story about how she’s been waiting for this call for the whole year, has been working overtime and taking up shifts for other people only to become marketing manager once the previous one (an old man with a very mean Munchlax) finally retired. 

Gou fails a bit into seeing what is the appeal of becoming manager of a whole section, but Kikuna keeps reminding him of a higher paycheck and the fact that they have paid vacations to Johto every year. She’s then lost forever when Renji says something regarding hot springs in Huen and they all start fantasizing about December holidays spent lazing around.

The night progresses along these lines, one crying fit expertly avoided at a time and Raboot finishing Kikuna’s share of cold soba noodles once she seemed drunk to the point of no return. 

The bill is considerably less heavy than they would’ve thought considering the alcohol currently circulating inside their blood vessels, but the waiter throws a longing look at Kikuna and Gou can’t help but understand. 

Renji bids them goodnight, the rain outside is but a gentle drizzle and, as he supports most of Kikuna’s weight, a thunder in the distance breaks the atmosphere, wicks away the static feeling permeating his bones.

“C’mon, let’s get you to bed,” Gou mutters, Sobble has disappeared but he can feel the cold (and moist, it’s a bit disgusting but he loves him enough to bear the strange feeling) paw gripping on his ear. Raboot is walking under the rain because he enjoys being dramatic like that, so Gou rolls his eyes and starts heading towards the train station. 

“You’re going to regret this, tomorrow,” he says to Kikuna, since he thinks he deserves at least the right to complain.

“I won’t,” she slurs a bit, Gou is sure that if it weren’t for her heels she would be able to stand by herself, but he’s not going to make her walk barefoot at night, so he struggles with the added weight and thinks of his warm bed, relishes in the thought of the night as a wet sponge cleaning away the ragged chalk signs of a bad day.

“Yes you _will_ , you always do. And then you complain to Koharu about your headaches,” at the mention of the girl Kikuna giggles a bit.

“Koharu is in the gym with that nice boy everyone likes,” they pass a convenience store and Gou is tempted to enter to buy an umbrella but he figures he wouldn’t be able to hold it along with a raving Kikuna hanging from his shoulder.

“She’s with Rika—

“No, no,” she interrupts him, “She’s with, with the boy. The _insu_ — the _instructor_.”

Gou huffs, tries to wipe some of the water from his forehead, “Sure, she’s with the instructor, too.” Whom she apparently likes.

Kikuna doesn’t seem to approve of the answer because she shakes her head, wobbling dangerously to the right, in the meantime they have (albeit a bit precariously) reached the station and he deposits her on a bench before ravaging through her purse for her train card.

“The boy, he’s. Gou,” she whines, “Listen to me, he’s _nice_.”

“You already said that.”

“And he’s tall, he comes from Masara, _very_ tall.”

“That’s cool,” there are a few people giving them a wide berth and he can’t really blame them, but once he’s managed to scan both his and Kikuna’s cards and put her on an empty seat he can finally relax, even if it’s just for ten minutes.

“Koharu said, she showed me a picture and he’s _so_ nice, Gou, I think she has a tiny _crush,_ ” she whispers like they’re middle schoolers talking about boys behind the tool shed, it’s nice knowing that even inebriated she remembers how to speak at a reasonable volume.

“If I weren’t a lesbian,” she giggles a bit at having said the word out loud, Gou can’t help but smile, “I would make a move,” she nods, then becomes a bit gloomier as she says, “Also, I’m too old.” 

Gou reassures her that she isn’t in fact that old, twenty-nine is not a big number at all, mostly because Kikuna looks on the verge of tears but also because he’s almost there, too, and he doesn’t want to think of himself as _old_. 

She seems to be nodding off, but Gou is determined to keep her awake because once she’s asleep it’ll be only more difficult trying to make her climb the two flights of stairs to her apartment, the only reassurance he has is that the train is almost empty and the artificial lights make his eyes sting, forbidding him from falling asleep, too.

Raboot is kicking his legs and Sobble’s skin is dry enough for his reappearance, he looks like he’s very tired and Gou can’t blame him. 

Here, between a very drunk Kikuna and his Pokémon, gently coddled by the hypnotizing lull of the train on the railway, Gou can almost forget how terrible this day had been, Yamabuki is pretty at night, the way brittle, decorated eggshells are, a bit useless but nice to look at. 

The automatic voice announces their stop and he struggles to keep his friend upright, but they manage without falling off or breaking their necks. 

As they exit the station, the sky clearer and the hair piercing their lungs, Kikuna seems more awake and less about to fall head over heels, Gou still doesn’t trust her to walk without a hand over his shoulder so he stays close. Then she abruptly stops in her track and spins so fast he feels like he’s the one who drank too much.

“Oh, Gou,” she says, in that weird emotional tone she uses when he confesses something personal to her, “I know what you need.”

Gou tries to move them away from the centre of the pavement, most of the shops are closed this late but people are still passing by, even if it’s a residential district. The buildings surround them like castle walls, he’s not ready to receive a passionate declaration of friendship from her.

“Kikuna—

She doesn’t let him finish the sentence, instead she grabs both of his shoulders with her very strong hands and lowers herself until her eyes are at the same level as Gou’s.

“You need to, the zumba, Gou.”

“Huh?” is all he can say before Kikuna turns a shade of _sick_ he’d rather not see when she’s facing him, so he quickly moves out of the way and opens the building doors with a force he didn’t think he ever possessed. 

Thanks to the help of an exhausted Raboot, they are able to enter Kikuna’s apartment without waking any of her neighbours up, and since Gou is a very good friend he takes off her shoes and gently steers the woman towards her bed. 

Even if he knows where they stand, he doesn’t feel completely comfortable in undressing her, so he goes to the kitchen, fills a glass with tap water and puts it on her bedside table. He plugs her phone in, makes sure there are several alarms set, and then tries to silently leave, but Kikuna stops him before he can even close the bedroom door.

“I think, Gou,” she struggles to sit up, “You should go to the gym.”

Gou rolls his eyes, pick Raboot up because his eyes are starting to close on their own volition.

“I already heard this from Koharu.”

“No,” she whines, “It’s… for the stress, you’re stressed,” Kikuna points a very accusatory finger in his general direction, “You’re tiny and you’re stressed.”

“We’re the same height.”

“But you’re stressed.”

She seems very focused in trying to make a point, Gou doesn’t know how to tell her that he’s not stressed without making her cry.

“I don’t see how _zumba_ out of all things could help me.”

“No, it’s sweet, makes you feel good. So nice.”

“I don’t think you’re talking about zumba anymore.”

Kikuna seems to want to say something else, but the beer and the fact that it’s almost midnight win over her and she closes her eyes, mumbling something he can’t discern. Raboot and Sobble are almost there themselves and if he wants to get to the last train without having to walk all the way home he better hurry up. 

He closes the door behind him and, in the liminal space created by a city almost asleep, he runs to the station.

* * *

“Did you have fun, yesterday?” Gou asks Koharu over lunch with a smirk, her bento’s full to the brim with every kind of carbohydrates. She throws a disheartening look his way, one of those that mean she’s aware of the fact that Gou is just pretending to be nice, and takes a big gulp of sweet tea

“Sure, it was _fun_ ,” she says as she scoops out a big spoon of rice, Yamper is wiggling her tail and Gou knows that another minute and she’ll receive all the little sausages Koharu likes to pretend they’re for herself.

“Kikuna told me—

“I don’t want to know what a drunk Kikuna told you.”

Gou cackles loudly and has to apologize to a few people trying to eat peacefully a few tables over, Raboot seems more embarrassed than Gou feels and Kohaur is hiding her face behind some potatoes.

“She said you have a crush,” he singsongs, the fact that his head his still attached to his neck is testament to the legitimacy of the statement, because Koharu, when faced with ticklish truths, reddens and loses the usually fine-tuned venomous tongue she deliberately uses against anyone at any time. 

Gou’s eyes widen almost comically when he sees the girl in front of him retrace a bit, look away.

“You _do_ have a crush, holy—

“It’s _not_ a crush, shut up,” she moves forward and tries her best to give him a clip round the ear without jostling Sobble around.

“Did you seriously sign up to a _zumba_ class because you have a crush on the instructor?”

“I didn’t know who the instructor was when I joined the gym, did I?”

“But you have a crush.”

“You’d have it too if you saw him.”

Gou waves a hand in front of his face, biting into his milk bread with gusto, “I’m not interested in a zumba class.”

“I still think you should try it, it really helps and—

“Yes, I’m stressed, tell me about it.”

Koharu huffs and finally gives Yamper the sausages in her lunch box, Raboot is pretending to be disinterested in the exchange going on but he’s a big gossip and there is only so much drama going on in Gou’s life, so the pokémon vicariously enjoys it through TV series with a low production budget and his friends’ love lives, Gou understands because he does the same.

“If other people have told you about it, perhaps there’s a chance it’s true.”

“I’m fine,” then to deflect, “let me see the gym instructor.”

Koharu doesn’t look too convinced, but she unlocks her phone and scrolls through some apps before she taps on the gym profile, apparently, and shows him a picture of a man in a thermic shirt flexing, a Pikachu laying on top of his head. 

Gou can’t see if he’s _really_ as tall as Kikuna told him he was, but he has a nice face, freckles and sun kissed cheeks, his eyes are crinkling and his teeth are showing, he doesn’t want to be the kind of guy that zooms on strangers faces, but he’s very tempted to do so. The lighting in the picture is bad, but he can still recognize a handsome face when he sees one.

“Alright he’s—

“I know,” Koharu seems desperate about the fact that her gym instructor is hot, Gou can’t help but find it endearing, “Did Rika put you up with him?”

Their lunch break is running short, most of the people are already tidying up their tables to return to work, but Gou in mildly interested in this story now, he can’t back track.

It strikes him how grown up they are, now, full time job and taxes to pay, but still finding time to talk about boys, out of all things. Koharu knows about him, has known probably way before he actually realised it himself, growing up without a lot of exposure to other people did that to you, he imagines. 

“No, she really just wanted to have a gym partner and I said, why not. At first it was just running and stuff then the zumba class started and,” she doesn’t finish the sentence but he pierces the thoughts together and smiles sympathetically. 

“I think you should go for it.”

Koharu splutters, scaring Yamper who yelps and barks before settling down, locks her phone, putting it away almost as if the disappearance of the guy could protect her from Gou’s idea. She violently shakes her head and gets up.

“We barely _talk,_ Gou.”

“So? How do you think people meet?”

“Did you hit your head on your way here?”

Gou follows her, Sobble doesn’t look like he’s understanding exactly what’s going on and Raboot, instead, understands it too well. The debate heats up quickly with Koharu’s hands very close to Gou’s neck and some threats thrown into the conversation, too, he still stands by his point, alive and well.

In the elevator, when they’re finally alone, she turns to him, “Let’s make a deal,” she says, “I’ll _consider_ asking him out if you come with me to the gym.”

“I don’t need to go to the gym.”

“Tell that to the bald patch on your head.”

Gou stops in front of the vending machine and buys the most sugary coffee can he can find, opens it and takes a big gulp, meanwhile Koharu looks at him like the fact that he can’t stay awake for more than five hours without a caffeine high proves her theory, which it might, but he will die on his hand crafted hill of aluminum cans. 

Koharu is headstrong in her worry, no half measures whatsoever; his mother would pretend to fuss for a bit, try to cook him a meal before remembering she doesn’t even know how to turn on the stove and then calling grandma in her stead, _at least she'd try_ , Gou bitterly reasons. It’s typical of him to get stuck in hypotheticals though he’s quickly shaken away by Sobble almost falling off of his shoulder. 

Koharu crosses her harm over her chest, her yellow blouse creasing, bracelets tinkling and eyebrows knitted, everything screams bigger sister.

“What kind of deal is that?”

“A pretty good one, considering that I’m putting my reputation on the line only because I don’t want to discover you died on your desk after a heart failure.”

“All I said was that I think you have a chance with the gym guy, I didn’t ask for an intervention,” Gou throws the can away and buys another one for Renji, out of the goodness of his heart. 

Koharu is incessantly drumming her fingers over her forearm, chest leaning his way and by now it’s just a matter of resistance, who will drop the act fast enough to recover from this endless game of dares and truths they’ve been playing since they were fourteen. 

Gou has mastered the poker face and the kicked-puppy-eyes that granted him early Friday nights leaves, but Koharu’s talent in gritted-teeth-looks and suggestive ultimatums is unparalleled and unmatched, even his father had trouble withstanding them, and they’re not fighting on even grounds, since Gou has nothing to lose and doesn’t really like Rika that much, he’d be glad to know that Koharu finally scored thanks to _his_ help. 

After a few, very tense, seconds Gou rolls his eyes, “Alright, I’ll come to the gym,” Koharu lets out a celebratory noise, “ _but_ , you’ll have to ask him out. Within a month.”

“And if I don’t?”

Gou shrugs, “I won’t fix any of your stupid washing machine anymore.”

She stops in her tracks, squints, “What if I do it, then.”

“I’ll stop bothering you about the fundings.”

Koharu doesn’t even have to let the words sit and marinate the thought before she says, “Deal.”

* * *

Weekends are usually spent catching up on forgotten rest or, rarely, visiting his grandmother in Kuchiba, she likes to dote on him and whenever he’s staying with her he ends up with a basket full of tupperwares and knitted jumpers he rarely wears outside. 

Otherwise, he just likes to listen to old ladies talk about karaoke or bowling or whatever new activity they have dedicated themselves for the month.

Gou doesn’t really have a hobby that requires frequent attention or any kind of dedication, he likes computers and wildlife documentaries, Raboot sometimes longingly stares at pokémon gyms posters and advertisement whenever the league season kicks in, Gou regrets not having taken the trainer route whenever this happens, but he was never interested in competitive battling and Raboot enjoys sleeping in too much for his own good.

Sobble came later, he found the pokémon stuck in a sewer during his internship at Macro Cosmos and something about the way he slowly blinked his eyes at him kindled a hidden part inside Gou and Raboot’s brains and now they work as a weird triplet. 

He is currently contemplating turning to the other side and going back to sleep, it’s late enough not to be considered morning and he’s already had breakfast, he doesn’t have a reason to be productive on a Saturday, when the too-loud-ring from the doorbell interrupts his attempts to merge himself with the beddings. 

He gets up, eyes the lonely succulent Sobble picked up the last time they went to an actual supermarket as a little pet project, Raboot is curled next to Gou's pillow, one eye blinking open, evidently judging his bedhead. He bumps into his armchair, big enough to host both him and Raboot but still fitting inside his cramped apartment, and opens the door.

A tall man, short spiky hair, wearing a long sleeve shirt even with the summer barely gone, is smiling at him, Gou has to do a double take because he’s pretty sure he’s seen this person before and then the train leaves the station and he remembers Koharu and their deal.

“You’re—” the stars, because even if his brain is beginning to process things at a faster pace, there are still some rough patches.

“I’m the new neighbour!” The other one chirps, he has a nice voice, there is something kid-like in it and it doesn’t fit the mountain of muscles he seems to possess, but it wakes Gou up and he recoils a bit. 

In that moment Gou realises he’s in his pajamas, that there is probably a very unflattering spit stain on his cheek (he tends to drool in the night, no matter how well he breathes) and his hair is sticking in all directions, meanwhile the new neighbour, who is also Koharu’s crush and apparently as tall as Kikuna described him, is trying to introduce himself.

He cringes a bit at the mental image of how he looks in that moment but then quickly opens the door all the way and offers his hand.

“Yeah, uh, yes sure I’m,” he clears his voice, “I’m Gou.”

The stranger takes his hand and — alright, it is a very big and warm hand, Gou is a bit shaken, “Satoshi, nice t’meet ya.”

Satoshi’s accent is a bit different, both melodic and harsher than what he is used to hear normally in Yamabuki, he recalls something about rural towns and shuts his mouth, he can’t help but gape a bit at the newcomer with a dashing smile and cargo shorts; Gou also doesn’t have any housewarming gift to give him and the next thing he knows his brain is trying to do damage control the best he can.

“Er, you…” he doesn’t really know what to say, “Would you like to come inside?” Gou compliments himself, he’ll surely be the recipient for the dumbest person in Kanto award, but Satoshi’s smile only widens, he stuffs his hands inside the big pockets of his pants and shakes his head, there is a rebellious tuft of hair sprouting right at the centre of his head; its upward slope is oddly charming.

“No, no! I wouldn't want to impose, I just wanted to introduce myself,” he grins and then “You’ll see me around, I guess.” 

Another flashing smile, up this close Gou can almost count the freckles on his face. Satoshi bows, says something else about working not far from here and settling down.

Gou is not great at small talk and only offers reassurance when he is asked about (for some reason) the voltage of the power generator of the building; Satoshi’s lilt is, frankly speaking, quite captivating but the conversation runs dry in a matter of minutes and he parts with a _have a nice day_.

“Sure,” Gou meekly responds, he watches Satoshi return to his apartment and catches the sight of a yellow lighting tail zapping through his legs before the door is closed and Gou is hanging a bit too tightly on the frame of _his_ door, so he shakes his head and enters, too. 

Raboot is standing atop of the low table that serves both as a place to eat and to work, paws stuffed inside the pouch on his belly, they look at each other in silence and then the pokémon hops down and turns towards the kitchen.

“Right,” he mutters, “you’re hungry?” 

Raboot doesn’t say anything, not even a huff, and opens the fridge door which has emptied considerably ever since the last grocery run and looks at him dead in the eyes, with a sour expression a bit too human to be sitting comfortably on a pokémon’s face. 

“Eh, alright,” he reasons, he also has to buy a new rice cooker, seeing that he’s been cocking his rice the way his grandmother did and the results have not been great; that also offers an excuse to buy the new neighbour a gift and making sure that his ancestors are not revolting inside their graves for the lack of good manners on his part. 

Gou gets dressed quickly, grabs his wallet and a sleepy Sobble, who instinctively grabs his hair and yanks a bit; when the fresh September air blows in their faces Gou is hit with the realisation that the new (very attractive) neighbour is Koharu’s crush is the gym instructor he will have to face once a week for a month, at least. 

He’s going to have a very distressing call with his friend.

* * *

Koharu, understandably, isn’t thrilled by the news.

Gou tries to sweeten the pill but her expression goes from mildly surprised to completely embarrassed in the span of a few seconds and words turn into groans; Gou is currently sitting on a bench in the park in front of his building, grocery bags at his feet and Raboot playing with the Machop of a young trainer, while holding his phone in front of him.

“I will murder you,” Koharu says, she’s walking down one of Yamabuki main streets, her phone is held at chin level and he cannot completely see her eyes but he gets a wide view of her flaring nostrils.

“I didn’t do anything,” he grunts, Sobble is walking over the edge of the bench, oscillating like a pendulum, he offers Gou a fallen leaf and he accepts it with a distracted smile.

“You—” she stops in her tracks and lifts her phone, “You _conjured_ it, somehow, this is one of your dirty tricks.”

“While I’m flattered you think this highly of me,” he sarcastically rebuts, “I really just discovered it like, two hours ago,” he has a grimace on his face.

Koharu falters a bit, squints her eyes as if pondering whether to believe him or not and then starts walking again.

“I don’t care, this changes our deal.”

He raises one perplexed eyebrow, “It does?”

“Yes,” she stops at a red light, “an extension of your duties—

Gou rolls his eyes, “Alright, how long?”

“You didn’t let me finish, a month extension if I _decide_ to ask him out _and_ you cannot interfere, if I find out you said something about me—

“Hey! I’m on your team here.”

“Whatever, you actually have to come to the gym,” he can feel the heat of her glare even behind the screen.

“Fine,” Gou gets up from the bench, “Bye, see you on Monday.” 

Koharu scoffs and hangs up, he bites his lower lip when grabbing the shopping bags and Raboot reaches him fast, his snout is dirty from the dust he was playing in and Gou knows he’ll have a hard time convincing the pokémon to bathe. 

“Can you carry the rice cooker for me?” Raboot picks up the box, it’s big enough to almost completely cover his face but not too heavy for him, they walk home side by side.

The copper circle of the sun is in the middle of the sky, the early September weather is still warm but discreetly covers the last vestiges of the August heat with placid winds and its storms intimidate the kids playing outside, trying to catch the unevolved Caterpies before school starts again. 

Gou slowly makes his way towards his apartment, bags weighing down his arms and new mothers catching up with each other, full strollers dividing them, he feels estranged from this kind of experience, but then again, he never considered a child and a wife as foreseeable presences in his life in the first place, his parents have stopped questioning him about his relationship with Koharu after high school. 

He remembers how it was, growing up not seen and unheard, he never was particularly outgoing and he had a tendency to try and outsmart everyone, just to prove that he could, Gou is not very proud of the kid he used to be, but years of standing alone in front of your bathroom mirror asking yourself repetitive questions had created a tiny music box inside the antechamber of his skull, that played periodically the same maddening melody he couldn’t take off his head; _whys_ hitting the upper note, mismatched _whats_ and _hows_ scanning the tempo, a water torture.

With the years left behind, the treacherous demon of self doubt was tamed to nothing but a crack down the pavement, one he still would slip on, but something he could forget was there, and as he grabs his keyfold with difficulty Gou shakes away the alienated sensation of being on the road to twenty-five.

Raboot helps him by closing the door of the apartment behind him and Sobble— he calmly makes his way over the potted plant he insisted Gou buy, where he spends most of his time bathing in the humidifier mist, he is convinced the pokémon is trying to transform their apartment into a jungle. 

“Do you think it’s weird if I give him plain soba as a housewarming gift?” he asks Raboot, who only looks at him and shrugs his tiny shoulders.

Gou isn’t the best cook, he wouldn’t want to poison the new neighbour considering what’s at stake, but he figures noodles are noodles, whether handmade or nicely wrapped by the lady at the store who suggested him the sturdy bowls set along with the dried soba.

“It’s lunch time, should I go now?” 

Raboot doesn’t answer, either because he genuinely doesn’t understand centennial human customs or he simply wasn’t listening to him, as he often tends to do. Gou fights with the thought for a while and decides, against every cell in his body telling him to mind his business, to take the package in his hands, forgetting his slippers and knocking on Satoshi’s door, abandoned by his Pokémon.

“Uh, hi,” he says, offering the box, “a gift. For housewarming, I mean a housewarming gift,” he stumbles.

Satoshi gracefully takes it between his hands and offers a blinding smile, “Hey! Thank you, you didn’t have to.”

Except that he kind of did, Gou shakes his hands, “It’s— it’s nothing, really, just some soba and—

“Oh, soba! I love it, you want to come and eat it with us?”

Gou doesn’t know who that _us_ includes but he’s not entirely sure he should be part of it.

“No, it’s fine, I don’t want to bother you.”

Satoshi gives him a funny look, “You’re not bothering, don’t worry, your Pokémon seem to agree with me.”

He turns and sees Raboot, Sobble held between his arms, peek through the crack of the door he left half opened and can do nothing but sigh, he nods in Satoshi’s direction and Raboot jumps over with levity. The taller man crouches down and offers his closed fist as a greeting and the Pokémon both bump their paws with him, Gou feels like a parent sending off his children to preschool.

“Come in, sorry for the mess, by the way, Pikachu and I have finished unpacking this morning.”

The apartment is a mirrored copy of Gou’s, there is a pile of cardboard boxes laying next to what he assumes is the kitchen entrance and the walls are emptier, but there’s the same parquet on the floor and the same prefixed neon lights hanging from the ceilings. Satoshi’s Pikachu makes his appearance the moment he deposits the gift on the low table in the main room. 

He, like most Pikachus, is not very big, cute, the distinctive zig-zag of the tail swishing from left to right, but once the pokémon turns Gou can see one of his hind legs is considerably shorter and part of the fur on his back is gone, an intricate scar lattice taking up most of the space. Gou tries his best not to stare, but Pikachu climbs on Satoshi’s head easily enough and he is reminded of the picture he first saw a few days ago on Koharu’s phone.

Satoshi is setting down two cork coasters when he asks, “Hope berry juice is alright with you?

Gou takes the already opened can in his hands, “Yes, uhm, it’s alright,” he takes a big gulp and the crisp flavour loosens the knot his tongue seems to be stuck in.

“H-how long have you been in Yamabuki?”

The taller man offers a short laugh, Gou doesn’t understand what’s funny but he feels so out of his body he probably figures the problem is only his own.

“Two months? I’ve been couch surfing with a friend until I found this place, it’s nice, isn’t it?”

He is moving around the house, almost as if hospitality is a second nature to him, and having a stranger in his space and going so far as to offer him lunch, too, are just things that happen to him on the daily.

There is something warm in the way he moves, Gou wants to hit his forehead hard on the plywood of the table in front of him because his thoughts are not making sense anymore. Satoshi returns with a hand towel thrown over his shoulder and Pikachu still sitting comfortably atop of his head, not unlike the position Sobble is currently in, and smiles at the three of them.

“Is mori soba alright? I don’t have much, yet.”

“Yes, yes! Don’t worry, really, it’s— fine.” 

Gou feels a bit bad, he figures he should be the one to welcome the new person into the building and not the other way round, but the whole situation has a natural shape, a bubble forming on its own and floating over their heads like they were meant to be there in the first place, sharing cold soba out of freshly rinsed bowls Gou bought out of desperation.

As he says his thank for the meal, chopsticks in hand Satoshi asks more questions than Gou feels he deserves to be asked, frankly it’s a bit frightening the ease with which he answers them truthfully: they’re not too personal, the right degree of colloquial enough not to feel like a trespassing in uncharted waters neighbours of a day shouldn’t wander into. 

Satoshi’s interested in his Pokémon, wonders if he’s from Galar, to which Gou responds that his parents had to travel a lot for work and he spent a year there when he was ten, it’s clear he likes pokémon in the more all encompassing way, Gou likes pokémon, too, but feels the difference between the two of them; he knows people who are indifferent to the matter and people who could spend all their lives researching the tiniest particle about the creatures, he doesn’t know if Satoshi falls in the latter but he understands that the selfless type of love the man has for his Pikachu is greater than what one normally sees.

He’s a bit jealous of how they can communicate even with the obvious language barriers, obvious in their mannerism, Gou looks at Raboot and Sobble quietly sharing a meal and feels the dark plunge of incompetency right in his stomach. 

By the end of the meal, he knows Satoshi is twenty six, from Masara (this he already was aware of, he has to endure the sense of guilt overcoming his body), and is probably the gentlest soul Gou has ever met. They part way once the clock strikes four in the afternoon, hours spent talking and doing nothing more.

Gou closes the door to his apartment and then, the sudden realisation of the forthcoming evening at the gym hits him right in the solar plexus. 

He groans.

* * *

Mondays are always a bit more difficult to accept than Tuesdays and Wednesday are.

A full breakfast and the silent commute by train offer him time to elaborate on how his body should work, Raboot helps him by keeping the thermos of coffee warm between his paws and Sobble, he just tries his best, but the start of the week is akin to a cold shower without notice. It brings out a sort of gloominess in people he doesn’t even know, passersby on the way to the station or coworkers he never really talked to, entering the building at eight in the morning after a Sunday spent isolating yourself is not an ideal experience, but he suffers through it.

At bottom, in the theory of laws Gou crafted when he was a child, his job description is perfect for him. Gou enjoys creating things by scratch and dislikes grease, so software engineering was the only right choice in university, and the Silph Co. vacant place felt like a siren luring him in their den. Nothing but days spent writing, inventing and confronting yourself with other ingenious minds. The thing _actually_ is: Gou doesn’t always like his job. He finds it tedious to no end, most of the time he’s not even creating something he understands and he feels completely out of place.

When he asked Renji about it, he made a pensive face and told him he didn’t ever think about it, then he asked Koharu who said it was only a matter of time, before _what_ she didn’t elaborate on, then Kikuna who told him doubting yourself was normal but _your own responsibilities are up to you, I can’t help you on that front_. 

Gou knows she’s right, and the job pays well. He doesn’t really feel like he’s being trapped inside a cage, it just feels too monotonous, Renji tells him it’s because washing machines and microwaves don’t seem like the next big discovery in the technological world, but he often likes to remind everybody that a good electric appliance saves lives. 

Gou doesn’t necessarily agree on such a blown-out-of-proportion statement, but he understands the deeper meaning. Still, the thought of having to spend most of his life writing a code for dish washers seems a bit too on the suicidal side to him.

“Are you ready for tonight?” Koharu stands in front of him, a water bottle in one hand, a coffee can in the other, offering a nice distraction from the chaos taking up space on his monitors.

He makes grabby hands and she gives it to him.

“Sure,” he drains the thing in a few gulps.

Koharu raises her eyebrows and makes a questioning face.

“Not going to bail out last minute?”

“Why would I?”

“Just making sure.”

Gou makes a face at her, “What do you want, anyways?”

“Can’t I just be here out of my own volition?”

He bites out a laugh, startling Renji who was trying to merge himself with his computer, he greets Koharu then gets up, probably to go to the resting area and take a nap. Gou has once tried to fall asleep during day time and it messed up his whole sleeping schedule, so he sticks to caffeine. 

“Very funny, what is it?”

The woman bites her lips and shifts her weight, then she huffs, “The Rotom of the eighth floor is stuck inside the fridge.” 

“ _Again_?” 

Koharu looks as exasperated as Gou feels, Sobble makes a protesting noise and he lifts him, the pokémon grabs his shoulder and settles comfortably in the hollow of his neck. Raboot is nowhere in sight, but he doesn’t worry.

The Rotom of the eighth floor is a menace of a beast, there is something terribly wrong with it and nobody seems to be able to figure out exactly what it is, rumors seeping through walls say headquarters even tried to get professor Okido to analyze it, but the fact that the pokémon acts like it’s a cellphone dropped in sea water remains and Gou, for as much as he idolized the professor as a child, doesn’t think a lab inspection or a biology luminary will produce any kind of results that will solve the more pressing problem. That is, avoiding electrocuting a whole building.

The pokémon is usually quiescent, they have a few of them to test products right away, but the moment something that vaguely looks as if it can wield electricity is connected to the cables that one specific Rotom jumps into it and calming it down is a task everybody dreads. 

Gou, apparently, is the only one who knows what the right thing to do is, because whenever this happens (and it happens much too frequently for his liking) someone is always at his desk, no matter how much he enjoys the distraction.

“It just _zapped_ into it, they said it was under control.”

The _they were wrong_ goes unsaid, as they exchange looks of distaste Gou plays with the USB he is sure will draw the Rotom inside. He doesn’t understand why no one seems able to grasp the trick of luring it away from whatever appliance it decided to haunt, he even tried to explain it to a scared intern who flew the room as soon as he was done, but he reasons it’s easier to have someone else do the job in your place.

“I’m sure,” he replies, a sour taste already in the back of his throat. 

Once the lift doors open there is a sulphuric kind of feeling to the air, everybody is wearing latex gloves and the fridge Rotom took a liking to is in the middle of the room, jumping and opening its doors merrily like this is a joke to it, which, thinking again, it might as well be. 

There is a collective sigh of relief once they spot Gou’s messy brown hair and his even messier jumper, yet no one dares to speak. Koharu is hiding behind him even if she pretends she isn’t and Sobble is blissfully unaware of the risks of a raging Rotom inside a fridge. 

He gets closer to the computer to which they do test runs, all the while trying not to glare to the others in the room and failing, once the USB is plugged inside it’s port there is a very loud shutting down noise and Rotom says something that strangely sounds like Kalosian and transfers itself pretty quickly inside the pendrive. Sure, there was something to type in and whole walls to bypass, but they’re all professionally trained in handling these kinds of things, he still is yet to comprehend how anyone could be so _scared_ of a pokémon in a fridge to avoid getting closer to a computer.

A loud cheer erupts from the room but Gou doesn’t really care about this kind of gratification when the task offered was just as dull and unexciting as what he was doing before.

The USB rattles a bit in his hand and it looks like its about to burst so he quickly takes it away and connects it to the other computer that leads directly to the foolproof (and if it’s meant to be foolproof Gou wonders just how stupid these people are) room where four more Rotoms are gleefully floating. 

Someone thanks him and he waves his hands, stuffing his hand in the undersized pocket of his pants. Koharu, who was overseeing the whole thing from afar, follows him back to his desk.

“You’re kind of good at dealing with them.”

“A _child_ would’ve been able to do the same thing, Koharu, it’s not being good,” he sits down, Renji is still missing and so is Raboot, lunch break was an hour ago and he still has three hours to spend agonizing over dumb washing machines and brakets and he reached his quota of coffee cans for the day, in Gou’s perspective this is very close to the apocalypse. 

“Still, you could’ve refused.”

Gou rolls his eyes and makes a clicking noise with his tongue, “First of all, you would’ve hunted me down if I refused,—

Koharu interrupts, _I wouldn't_ , but Gou is fast enough to continue before she gets all irky and irritable, “Second of all, if I don’t do it, nobody does it, that Rotom is untrained and I don’t understand why they keep it, but whatever floats their boat.”

In reality, Gou kind of understands why Silph Co. keeps the pokémon, one of the main reason is that if it’s inside a controlled environment the chances of it wreaking havoc in an entire city (the biggest in Kanto, too) are slimmer; also because it would probably count as negligence and a very dirty stain on everybody’s curricula if something happened to a pokémon under the company’s responsibility. 

Still, an annoying pokémon is an annoying pokémon and Gou notoriously doesn’t possess a grain of patience in his whole body.

“Whatever, you’re good at it, and I know you like working with them, I don’t understand why it’s so difficult for you to take a compliment,” the woman huffs.

Gou knows, he would like to remind her of his parents and the year he spent not talking to anyone out of spite, but the only thing that comes out of his mouth is a _that wasn’t a compliment_ and the conversation finishes like that.

“Fine, don’t forget we’re meeting at eight in front of the gym tonight.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he waves at her and Koharu goes away.

Gou is left with his dreaded washing machines and a Sobble busy ruining the thread count of his jumper. 

* * *

The gym is a ragged place, metal plates are haphazardly piled up next to one of the big windows, which are decorated with hanging pots infested by Parases all busy retreating for the night; there is a suspicious looking Charizard, one of their horns is clipped and they have a general rugged appearance that doesn’t reassure Gou in the slightest, they’re laying atop a block of cement, white smoke swirling through their nostrils.

Overall, it’s an ancient building, one of the derelicts from Yamabuki’s pre-industrialisation past that no one really remembers, either because they’re moved away or dead. Gou feels like he might be joining the latter very soon if the Charizard decides it’s dinnertime. 

People are passing by, most of them are office workers going home, and nobody seems to notice how odd the building is, or why in the first place such a building is there, snuggled in between a convenience store and a hairdresser, it makes sense for a gym to be this close to a working district, but it doesn’t explain why nobody took it upon themselves to fix the appearance, the growing weeds out of the crack in the pavement or the honestly worrying Grimer poking through the trashcan right next to the flickering street lamp. 

The Charizard opens one eye and lazily looks at him, almost as if pondering on whether to carbonise him or leave him be, and Koharu, Rika and a few other coworkers in tow, make an appearance right when the smoke starts to turn darker. Raboot seems to want to goad them in a fight but Gou doesn’t really have the confidence to assist him.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” his perplexed frown makes Koharu grumble.

“It’s repurposed. Would it kill you to keep an open mind?”

“Considering that this is the exact place someone would go to get murdered, probably yes.”

Gou isn’t feeling too great about sweating, let alone doing it in a decrepit old building renovated to a gym. Rika and the others are already inside, Koharu lingers outside with him.

“You promised.”

“I know what I did,” he snaps, Sobble doesn’t like when he raises his voice and one or two droplets of nervous transpiration making him disappear, Raboot turns his eyes towards them but seems very serious about exercising. 

“Don’t knock it till you try it.”

“Are you going to just,” he stops himself there, realises the mean thing he’s about to say and apologises quickly to Koharu, who shakes her head. 

She only looks at him with the kind of eyes he does not like to see, not from his homeroom teacher, not from his counsellor, not from the girl he grew up with, so he picks up the duffle bag he prepared that morning, the only pair of adequate sneakers he still had inside and a stainless steel water bottle which followed him since middle school and a second pair of socks, because he gets weirdly nervous about dirty socks. 

Even though the automatic doors don’t look like they come from the current decade, they don’t ominously creak when they open and the inside is well lit, it doesn’t even smell like a gym which is a feat in and of itself. 

At the reception there is a bored teen with bubblegum pink hair and a Hoothoot curiously watching over the monitors of the security cameras, Koharu points the general direction of the changing rooms and sends him to his merry way. Raboot is visibly vibrating out of his skin. 

Whatever a repurposed building is, Gou has to admit that they did a good job with the gym, the lights aren’t the usual neon ones that burn through your irises and the walls don’t reek of humidity like the exterior, there are few machines, but a lot of personnel and he remembers something about calisthenics Koharu mentioned a Thursday night over agedashi tofu and saké. 

It’s also in the middle of the common changing rooms where he learns that the gym is only a minor part of the whole structure, that actually is a social centre and suddenly Satoshi’s wide grin and proclivity to open doors and open arms make more sense. He shudders and opens the bag with too much force.

He changes methodically, Sobble wobbles on the benches like he tends to do, he likes the feeling of metal under his paws, Gou never understood the reason but it’s not like he’s hurting anyone, so he lets him do his thing. Koharu is already waiting for him outside, she has a washed down, well worn shirt he’s pretty sure used to be his once, but he pretends he doesn’t notice and she leads him towards the back of the building.

It gets even bigger, Gou thinks this used to be a warehouse or something along the line because more rooms keep appearing and the ceilings are weirdly high, Pokémon and people training one next to the other with little to none equipment. According to one poster taped to the shoes locker the centre becomes a gym mostly at night but day classes are open to students and _anyone who needs them_ like it’s supposed to mean anything to Gou.

They reach a closed room, a stylised Pikachu in the middle of the sturdy door, Gou feels his lungs pierced and falling to the back of his knees. Koharu raises an eyebrow, the _you promised_ rings loud and clear between them and if he’s made this stupid bet just to see his best friend out of the suffocating environment she finds solace in, the only way of helping each other they know is layered and covered in competitivness. 

“Don’t worry,” she says, patting him on the back, “The hour goes by without noticing.”

As if that’s supposed to reassure him.

* * *

Even after all the efforts in trying to hide his face, Satoshi sees him and throws Gou a surprised look the moment their eyes interlock. He gives a sheepish smile and Koharu blushes in his stead, which doesn’t make him feel any better. Satoshi says a few words introducing himself to the new faces, Gou tries his best to avoid thinking of it as a call-out, and begins with easy stretches he does everyday to get rid of the backache from sitting upright six hours straight.

Despite several smiles, and the reassurance of a nice, _smooth_ lesson Gou ends up sweating buckets and losing part of his soul somewhere in the room, next to a pumped up Raboot and Rika, who makes a beeline for Satoshi and Gou only has enough oxygen in his lungs to shove Koharu his way with a very sticky hand, before he crouches down and reaches over to his bottle kindly offered by Sobble, who looks very happy. 

Next to him an elderly couple makes their way towards the benches stacked up in front of a wall without looking winded or troubled.

“Thank you,” he breathes out, Gou didn’t think he was _this_ out of shape, perhaps Koharu was right. 

The moment he can feel his heart rate slow down and the sweat trailing over the nape of his neck becomes nothing but a mild inconvenience, Gou raises his eyes and looks around the room. Some people are leaving, he assumes to catch the trains or to eat dinner, but most are still inside, either talking with each other or waiting for the big circle around Satoshi to dissipate and have a chance to speak to him, too. 

Gou understands it, in a clumsy and inexperienced way, the man has a charming magnet-like quality to him, the lilt of his parlance, the slightly crooked nose and the warm colour of his skin, everything in him screams friendliness. 

Raboot seems engrossed in Satoshi’s Pikachu and his scarred backside, Gou wants to tell him it’s rude to stare but he reasons Pokémon don’t really work with human social clues and he leaves him be, wiping his sweat ineffectively with the back of his hand. 

Koharu has wormed her way to the man, he towers over others easily enough Gou is able to see him even with the stream of people flooding around him, she’s nervous and he knows this because Koharu doesn’t jitter of fidget, she’s too composed for that, but she is maniacally touching and twirling the tip of her complexed braid and Gou has witnessed one too many family fights to know this is either the start of a very excruciating shouting match or she’s trying to compensate for the fact that a nice boy is talking to her.

He finds it kind of endearing, she acts like a newborn Ponyta still figuring out how to use their legs, and he gets distracted by the mental image until he notices Rika and one of her friends from work bursting Koharu’s fragile bubble and he decides, no matter the pact of non-interference, he still has to do something to win those euphoric days without a stain of grease or limescale on his hands. He figures, if everything goes well, Satoshi might as well be his substitute in fixing Koharu’s battered apartment. 

Gou shakes away the thought and gets up, his legs will kill him in the morning but tonight all he feels is the pudding like consistency of his joints and the existential need for a shower. Raboot follows closely, but for different reasons. He shoulders his way through sweaty human beings dreading every single moment his skin makes contact with another person and plants himself in front of Rika and her coworker, who has been denominated Rika’s friend because he can’t be bothered to remember their name. 

Satoshi smiles, attention moved away, and Gou pats himself on the shoulder.

“Didn’t think I’d see you here!” Satoshi says, hands on his hips.

He has neon yellow sleeves on his arms, Gou doesn’t know their purpose but the only thing they accomplish is defining even more Satoshi’s biceps and tendons, they’re not massive in the _I-obviously-lift-weights-ask-me-about-it_ type of way, but they kindly curl inwards whenever he moves and Gou really has to get his priorities straight because objectifying men can be a good pastime but not when blissfully spent Saturday mornings are at stake.

“Heh,” is the only thing he’s able to say before Koharu interrupts him by stomping on his foot.

“He’s the _stressed_ friend I told you about, had to drag him all the way here.”

Gou glares at here, mostly because he walked on his own, and he’s starting to regret it, but the fact that Satoshi and Koharu _spoke_ before is good, something that gives him a solid base from where to climb up without worrying about falling in the empty space of conversations about weather and how Yamabuki is beautiful this time of the year. 

“Well, what a small world,” Satoshi grins, again, like a punch in the guts.

Koharu agrees, they talk more about the classes, same time next week apparently, Gou is so glad this is a weekly appointment that he doesn’t notice when Satoshi talks directly to him.

“Huh? S-sorry, I wasn’t listening,” he apologises quickly, he glances around and he sees Raboot holding Sobble up, next to Satoshi’s Pikachu.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures Gou, “I asked if you need a lift?” 

Gou is shocked enough by the sentence he doesn’t register it in his brain, riddled by white noise and the static frizzle old televisions had on their screens, Satoshi bends his head sideways, looking like a massive Arcanine who forgot his size. 

“Ah, I’m, yes,” he stutters, “It’s fine, alright.”

“Nice! I’ll see you outside, then.” 

Gou isn’t sure he agreed to it, but any moment spent away from crowded train cars is a good one, so he doesn’t try to correct him.

Satoshi calls Pikachu, who jumps on his shoulder and says goodbye to everyone else, pats Koharu and him on the back and then retreats where the changing rooms for the personnel are meant to be.

“What were you doing,” Koharu angrily whispers to him the moment Satoshi’s broad shoulders disappear. She grabs him by the shoulders and forcibly shoves them towards a less crowded space in the room.

“Saving _you_ from Rika and her friend, stupid.”

“Don’t call me stupid, and what did I tell you about not saying anything?”

“Did you really expect me not to do anything when they were all in his face?”

Koharu lets out an exasperated groan, “It’s not your problem, Gou.”

Gou agrees on that matter, it shouldn’t be his problem; Raboot offers him Sobble who extends his short arms to be picked up. 

He looks at Koharu and her messy braid, the sneakers she had since being part of the volleyball team in university and feels the overwhelming need to close his eyes very hard, until all he can see are the kaleidoscopic shapes on the back of his lids that allow him to remember simpler times, bruised knees and weekends spent at her house drawing Pokémon and fantasizing about futures filled with adventures. 

“I was doing damage control, is it too hard to believe that I want you to,” he doesn’t know what verb to put there, _conquer_ seems a bit too much and _get laid_ is definitely too crude for the situation, so he ends up with “be happy?”

Koharu’s eyes soften, her shoulders drop and she huffs, less mad and more unambiguously tired. He understands that at twenty-four the necessity for high-school drama is not something they ever thought was going to be affecting their lives, but at the same time he can’t be annoyed by the fact that they’re still bickering like they used to about Tobio-from-the-kendo-club and how nice his eyes were. 

He remembers they both got heartbroken for entirely different reasons, but for the sake of old memories he tries to push the thought aside.

“I know, Gou, but this is just,” she waves her hand around, showing the room, “It’s just a _crush_ , I appreciate it, though.”

They smile at each other, bump their shoulders gently. There is a muffled noise permeating the room, no one enters their trajectory and they are still Koharu and Gou, unlikely friends who stood up for each other through thick and thin. 

“The bet still stands, though, right?”

Her eyes twinkle mirthfully, even though there’s something behind them he can’t quite yet pierce through, “Oh, hell yes.”

There’s the Koharu he knows. 

* * *

Gou waits for Satoshi outside, sitting on the pavement in front of the social centre; there are some kids climbing on the Charizard, whose name he learned is Zippo if the joyous squeals of laughter the children are letting out are of any indication, and the pokémon seems completely unbothered by the fact that a very tiny person is currently sticking their fingers inside his nostrils. 

He said goodbye to Koharu somewhere between the hairdresser pulling the shutters down and the children showing up, now the uneasy feeling of the night is growing inside his eardrums with the added weight of not having yet showered and the thought, almost as drenching as the sweat drying on the back of his neck, of another day spent sitting down in front of a black computer screen.

“Hi,” Satoshi seems winded up, like he’s catching his breath, which doesn’t make any sense because in one hour of physically taxing exercises he didn’t break a sweat. 

He changed and he’s wearing a big sweatshirt over the same dark short he had on when they first met, Pikachu is hanging on his blue and white backpack, it looks rugged and a bit beaten up, well worn.

“Sorry, was catching up with some of the kids inside.”

Gou gets up, Sobble asleep in his arms and Raboot, for once, not agitated with nervous energy. 

“D-don’t worry, uh,” he clutches Sobble a bit too strongly and he whines a bit, moves in his sleep.

Satoshi is all beaming smiles, Gou doesn’t think he can say, in the short time they have known each other, he ever saw him without the stretched muscles of his cheek giving away to soft dimples and a crooked incisor, too sharp canines. The taller pats him on the back, like he did before, like they’re old friends finally catching up after losing sight of one another.

“My car is just behind the corner, c’mon.”

The walk is filled with words and they don’t feel as hollow as they would, were Satoshi another person, Gou a little less tired. He never had an actual friendship in his building, the closest thing to it was when he had to babysit the second floor lady’s child because her husband was sick in the hospital, and even then all they did was watch the television and play a very boring tabletop game Gou didn’t understand the rules of. 

Satoshi is not a child of five, though, so the conversation quickly steers towards the unwanted fields of jobs and what to eat for dinner, Gou thanks him again for the lunch of last week and Satoshi shrugs his shoulders making all his hair bounce a bit on his head, its curling gently at the back of his neck. Pikachu is hanging tightly on the straps of his backpack, his tail doesn’t swing a lot, probably because of the scar tissue there, but he easily climbs down once they reach the second hand car. 

“The centre officially opened six months ago,” he says, continuing the conversation they started, as he shifts into reverse, away from the parking lot behind the convenience store, “I knew a lot of the folks involved in the program, really good people. My friend asked me if I had anything to do and I said not really so now, here I am.”

Typical of Koharu to fall for literal saints. 

“W-well, it’s nice,” he doesn’t have much to offer, or an opinion to share, he can feel Raboot rolling his eyes in the backseat.

“Sure it is! If you’re interested I can hook you up with the yoga instructor, she’s from Johto, but we studied together at the karate dojo here in Kanto” he says like the geographical knowledge of where this person is from should matter somewhat to the knowledge she possesses.

“Ah, well—

“You know, because zumba is great if you want to decompress a bit but I think, for the stress, yoga or pilates is more your thing. Really helps your posture, too” Satoshi continues, Gou stands up straighter.

The road they’re following is unfamiliar to him, but Raboot is calmly gazing over the cityscape with the windows rolled down just enough for a gentle breeze to come inside to make the sweat dry without invoking a cold. 

“I really was… just following Koharu, to be honest.”

Satoshi laughs, his arms steer the wheel with a serenity Gou never associated with driving, his profile is much like the city at night. They stop at a red light and suddenly the sliver of air stops with them.

“That’s fine, too, I’m glad you decided to listen to her, though, she seemed really worried for you.”

The car starts again, but Gou’s brain and its ability to form coherent sentences is left behind at the traffic light, and has been substituted by a heavy sense of guilt.

“I’m, I’m sure she was just exaggerating, she’s like my sister you know,” blushing, he moves a bit, disturbing Sobble in his lap, he cannot see Satoshi’s face right now but he doesn’t know if he wants to.

“It’s funny, she told me the same thing,” a small, breathy laugh, “For real, though, the purpose of the centre is to help others, so if you ever need anything,” the rest of the words are left unsaid.

Gou opens his mouth, he’s sure he looks like a gaping Magikarp out of the water.

“It’s, uh, thank you?”

There is an awkward silence in between the last few minutes of the journey back to their building, Gou has enough common sense to carefully dodge the full speed bullet of awkwardly trying to reattach the strings of a conversation by then lost, so he cradles Sobble a little bit higher, pretends the stillness of the car is because of the sleeping pokémon and not his lack of critical thinking skills.

Satoshi stops the car under the platform roof the few people who decided to use their licence in a city like Yamabuki park theirs and exits to open Gou’s door.

“Here you go,” he says, taking his bag, too. Pikachu is inside his backpack now, Raboot looks like he still could run a few miles before collapsing in bed, Gou hopes he will be satisfied with a cup of tea and a nice, scalding shower. 

He waits for Satoshi to give him the bag but he locks the car and starts to make his way towards the main door, Raboot follows behind like he suddenly forgot who his trainer was and Gou’s pancreas produces a conspicuous amount of bile. 

“What do you do exactly, by the way?” Satoshi asks once they’re climbing up the stairs.

“Eh?” 

“Your job, I never really asked, sorry.”

“Ah, I’m a software engineer? At Silph Co.,” he specifies, Satoshi looks at him like he’s waiting for a further explanation.

“I basically create the programs on which most machines work with, it’s mostly electrical appliances, though.”

“Must be stressful, you like it?” 

They greet the mother on the second floor, Raboot a few steps ahead with Pikachu.

“I mean, yes? It’s fun I like programming, it’s just,” he shrugs his shoulder, there is a conflicting thought in confessing one of the few things you’ve always kept for yourself to an almost stranger, but Satoshi is currently carrying his bag for him and his Pikachu had been able to make Raboot genuinely smile in front of other people, the carefully laid out limits he set for himself enlarge exponentially simply by looking at his brown eyes.

“It’s not really what I expected it to be, I guess. But still, it pays the bills and all that, so.”

Satoshi makes a pensive noise, they reach their floor, two doors facing each other and the out of order elevator Gou promised to take a look at once in July and never followed through. 

“I don’t think you have to reduce everything to its utility, though.”

There are exactly twenty steps separating their apartments, forty if you’re sixty centimetres tall and close to one hundred if you’re Sobble, Gou has never thought anything of the distance between the place he lived and the one where Satoshi now sleeps and eats, but once Satoshi turns to him to hand the canvas bag, grin on its place right where everybody would look apathetic at best, it suddenly feels like a crater as wide as the whole region closed.

“I’ll see you soon, right?” Satoshi finishes, Gou nods and the other man stuffs his hands inside the pockets of his shorts, Pikachu hears the words and waves a tiny paw in Gou and Raboot’s direction and with a final, stranded goodnight from his side of the landing, he turns his wide back.

Gou reaches for his keys in a dreamlike state, he forgot the window opened and the apartment is several degrees colder than the rest of the building so he quickly discards his shoes and enters the tiny bathroom without even turning the lights on. 

There is a sympathetic pressure inside his vertebrae, rising all the way to where his brain connects to his spinal cord, the hot water and the semi-darkness of the room allow him to delete most part of the distressing and confusing feelings riddling his body like acupuncture needles pinning him in the most uncomfortable places. 

It’s not until he’s unfolded his futon, eyes fixed on the white ceiling of his bedroom, that he realises he has a serious problem.

* * *

Trying to rationalise an infatuation never ends the right way, he knows this because four weeks have passed and avoiding talking to Koharu about the troublesome inconvenience is becoming more and more difficult; this is why Gou dislikes corroding feelings like one sided attraction and unverbalized crushes, which most likely will bring nothing but discomfort for all the parties involved unless something like a double confession happens, he avoids slimy situations where words are left unsaid for this peculiar reason and so far, if he doesn’t count the slippery path he and Koharu took one morning in high school, he’s been doing great on that front. 

He’d rather avoid the precise moment the realisation will hit, it’s telling how prone the two of them are in finding each other in these bitter tangles. 

He shudders a bit at the crisp autumn air, wishing that the goosebumps on his arms will make the disturbed sand of his perfectly still and calm pond settle on the floor, the visceral sensation floats away and he enters the store in his block in search for dinner, hoping his thinking hasn’t conjured a certain gym instructor.

Ever since the first, fateful encounter Gou has been bumping into Satoshi whenever he isn’t at work. It shouldn’t surprise him, because even if Yamabuki is the biggest city in Kanto there is an obvious, logical reason for buying your groceries at the closest market and taking the same train because there is a station nearby, but it’s still kind of weird. 

There was a specific distinction in Gou’s life, before Satoshi and after him, a dull blade cutting through space slowly, he doesn’t know (in truth, deep down, he does, but he’s fine pretending he doesn’t) what this ridiculous time division really entails but it’s clear it _must_ have a meaning whenever he tries to remember what he was doing every day prior to Satoshi’s move, not even a full month and he’s seen him more than he has with his own parents, which doesn’t say much but the absurdity of the situation hits him like a bullet piercing through his brains and making his castle collapse. 

Koharu has been pestering him about this fact and he has tried to tell her that it’s not like he’s doing it on purpose, but she’s childish in that peculiar way you would never expect from her, in the end it’s not like they regularly go out to drink coffee, it’s more chit chatting while waiting for their turn at the local bakery or saying hi whenever Gou sees Satoshi out running in the park; in those occasions Raboot often likes to join him and Gou walks around with Pikachu and Sobble playing by the pond. Their interactions are friendly, but most of all he feels like the inherent goodness of Satoshi is something so incongruous with all he’s ever known that he doesn’t understand how to tackle the problem head first.

The honestly worrying lack of distinct memories from the days spent _before_ doesn’t bother him as much when he’s not thinking about it, but right now he’s busy musing over the man, while grocery shopping with Raboot inside the cart and Sobble precariously balanced on the handles, and the jelly consistency of his consciousness keeping him company is definitely not helping with his plan in convincing his friends he is not stressed and in need of dire psychological assistance.

He’s stopped the tiny shopping cart in front of the premade bento boxes shelf with the pout of a six year old stuck on a difficult arithmetic problem when a familiar voice interrupts his stupid self-reflection.

“So you were serious about not knowing how to cook.”

Gou jolts upright, the small of his back cracks ominously and he’s pretty sure he was very close to breaking his neck but once he turns he sees Satoshi, ever present long sleeves shirt and backpack, a dusty snapback on his head and the red basket of the supermarket in one hand, full of fresh vegetables and what looks like a pack of five kilograms of potatoes. 

“Huh? It’s not really...” he doesn’t know how to tell him that it’s not that he doesn’t know how to cook, it’s just that there’s no point in trying only to feed himself.

“Well, no wonder you’re stressed,” is Satoshi’s cheeky remark, Gou adds him to the mental tally of people he has to reassure daily about the state of his neurons. 

He scoffs, “It’s not like these are _bad_.”

“Never said that,” Satoshi gets closer, freckles even more visible under the lights of the store.

“Just that cooking for yourself is nice, isn’t it?” Pikachu, perched atop his shoulder, makes an affirming noise, he takes the plastic pack from Gou’s hands and inspects it with a raised eyebrow.

“A balanced—

“Oh save it,” Gou rolls his eyes, snatching back the bento, “Stop treating me like I have jaundice.”

Satoshi laughs a full belly, earth shaking, gut piercing laugh, “Why don’t you come to mine this evening, we’ll cook together!”

Gou opens his eyes so wide he thinks his lids have permanently retracted inside his skull, Raboot makes a sound that he interprets as encouragement, probably because he’s terribly besotted with Satoshi’s couch and the man in general.

“T-tonight?”

Satoshi nods, “Unless you have something else to do?”

“No, uh, no? I’m free,” he’s so stupid.

“Alright, then, see you later,” he waves his hand, sleeve slipping and a sliver of paler, pinker skin poking through.

Gou breathes out, Koharu is going to be so disappointed in him. 

* * *

Raboot is a malevolent traitor built like a big, soft stuffed animal, and Gou is lucky they like each other or the pokémon would’ve found a way to bury his corpse without no one noticing.

He doesn’t care about being too dramatic when he’s in front of the door of his best friend’s alleged crush with a bowl full of berries bought in panic because he thought it rude to present himself without anything at all, waiting for the metaphysical Damocles sword to cut his neck in half. 

Gou is mere seconds away from turning on his heels, just pretend he forgot about the invitation once Satoshi’ll ask about it, when his theory about Raboot’s tendency to betray him in the moment of need is proven once again since the pokémon angrily knocks on the hardwood of the door, too short to reach the doorbell. 

“I’ll force you in the bath tomorrow, just so you know,” he mutters to Raboot, who looks at him like he knows Gou won’t follow through with the threat, which he probably won’t because trying to bathe Raboot is like trying to domesticate an old Aggron, meaning pretty useless and life-risking. 

“Hi!” Satoshi has a ridiculous pair of neon coloured joggers, the same shirt he was wearing before and a very cute (Gou bites his tongue) apron stained with old blotches of what seems like curry sauce, there is a stylised Pikachu poking from the tiny pocket sewed on it. 

“Come in, we started preparing the oden already.”

“Oden? Isn’t it too early for it?” Gou takes off his slippers and lets Sobble down, who is already slowly making his way towards the potted sitrus berry plant next to the tiny balcony, Raboot and Pikachu are running somewhere else in the apartment. 

He deposits the bowl on the low table and follows Satoshi in his kitchen. 

“Are you implying there is a time _not_ to eat oden?” 

The radio is playing in the kitchen, some ancient song Gou knows is in Satoshi’s running playlist because he’s weird like that, only two years older than Gou but he sometimes acts like an eighty year old man reading newspapers and drinking green tea while complaining about his joints, except that Satoshi doesn’t complain about anything, really, it’s more drawn out whinging that stops the moment a nicer thoughts knocks inside his brain. It’s refreshing, Gou has to stop himself before he does something he will regret like screwing the pact or bet, he doesn’t know what to call it at this point.

“I just never ate oden before December, that’s all, doesn’t it take a lot to cook?”

“Nah,” Satoshi stirs the broth and offers a spoon to him, “Taste it, tell me if you like it.”

Gou takes the metal spoon with the tips of his fingers, blows over the broth and gulps it down, its flavour is stronger than what he is used to, but he likes it.

“It’s fine.”

“Just fine?” 

Satoshi takes a sharp knife and hands it to him, along with a carrot, the steam in the tiny room makes the air feel foggy in his lungs but it’s not bad, he starts cutting the vegetables like he used to do when he was with his grandma with a roll of his eyes.

“It’s good, happy?”

The taller one steals a piece of carrot from the cutting board while he stirs the broth in the pot, it’s clear he’s been keeping an eye on it since he returned from the grocery store and Gou has to take a deep breath to stabilise his shaking hands..

“Yes, in fact, I’m very happy to be giving you some of my mother’s famous oden,” he opens the white fridge, with magnets and postcards stuck on its door, and takes out two cans of soda.

He hands one to Gou once he’s finished with the carrots and the cabbage on the counter, he makes them slide gently inside the pot and Satoshi covers it with its heavy lid.

“ _Famous,_ ” he says, an air of playful doubt in his words.

Without a thought, so naturally that it felt like it didn’t even happen, they find themselves seated in front of Satoshi’s television, backs to the couch where Sobble is currently nestled and legs under the low table, the sun is starting to set.

“Sure, Masara ain’t that big, whenever we cooked we used to share with most of our neighbours,” he opens the can of soda.

Gou also knows (and it’s surprising to understand just how much you can learn about a person by simply hanging out with them and paying attention to their mannerism) that Satoshi doesn’t really enjoy carbonation, but that he will drink whatever the other person likes best, because he’s extremely unreal. Gou feels braver, he could eat his heart whole.

“Was it difficult to… come to a big city like this?” 

“Mh,” Satoshi turns his face to the corridor that leads to his bedroom, where Raboot and Pikachu most likely have caused some sort of damage, “I don’t know, I never thought about it?”

Gou laughs, “You didn’t think about whether it was difficult or not?”

Satoshi beams at him, like having made Gou giggle is the hardest of tasks.

“No, doesn’t really make any sense to be honest, does it? Wherever I am, the only thing that matters is that I am there.”

“That’s, oddly insightful of you?” he takes a sip of the soda, brings his knees towards his chest.

The reminder of Koharu and their friendship, of Kikuna and her words about what’s most important when making a decision, even Renji and the disgruntling torch he lit for him at twenty-two are suddenly vanishing from the blackboard in his head, there is only Sobble gently snoring and this man in front of him whose philosophy is completely incomprehensible and the oden boiling in his kitchen while the soft words of a woman are wrung out of her body in a sad, old song. 

“I try my best,” he looks Gou in the eyes, then;

“What about you?”

Gou inclines his head, a question clear on his face.

“Did you find it difficult to move here?

He makes a dismissive wave with his hand, “I’m from Kuchiba, you know, it’s not that different. Sometimes I miss the sea, Koharu and I are always planning a trip to the beach but with work… our schedules don’t always match, it’s difficult to drop everything and just go.”

“Not even to visit your parents?” 

Satoshi seems genuinely interested, Gou cannot blame the warm feeling of his face on the alcohol because Satoshi never drank beer once in his life and the soda is melon flavoured. He wants to backtrack, or even worse lie to him, but the sole thought of saying something untruthful to Satoshi makes his lungs churn. 

“Sometimes I do but, it’s, uhm, complicated,” he looks away and hopes for the small mercy of Satoshi understanding how much he doesn’t want to talk about them.

“I understand,” is all Satoshi says, he gets up and offers a hand, “Let’s go check the oden.”

Gou doesn’t think he deserves the protended hand but he takes it anyways, Satoshi lifts him easily, almost as if he weighs nothing at all, and they make the short walk to the kitchen in silence, Gou feels a bit guilty, he wants to say something, ask him about the kids he teaches at the centre, how the rescued pokémon he cares for are doing, but then Satoshi lifts the sleeves of his shirt to take the pot from the stove to the counter and Gou’s breath is cut short.

“Can you take the bowls?” a pause, “Gou?”

Satoshi shifts, deposits the saucepan and turns to him, something finally clicks and Satoshi makes a soundless _oh_.

Gou opens his mouth to say sorry, but Satoshi beats him, “You didn’t know.”

It’s not a question, more like a statement made with a dull voice that doesn’t suit the mental image Gou has of Satoshi. It’s obvious that he didn’t know, he _doesn’t know_ how he _could have known_ but apparently Satoshi thought he _knew_. 

Starting from the middle part of his forearms, up until the hollow of his elbow and the soft shape of the biceps, hiding under what’s left of the sleeves, there is a labyrinthine filigrane of scar tissue, not unlike the one on Pikachu’s back. It doesn’t look recent, but it’s too big to be kept as a secret and he realises it wasn’t that Satoshi kept it from him, just that Gou never bothered to pierce the thoughts together. Neon sleeves and long shirts in warm weather make more sense now.

“I—, sorry I know it’s. Rude of me. To stare,” he desperately tries his best to avoid looking at the puckered skin.

Satoshi is still, standing up in his kitchen with sleeves rolled over his muscles and he looks younger than he is, steaming pot next to him and all the times out of the social centre when he patted Zippo, retired and burn charred from illegal fighting, on the flank with all the understanding in the world encumber over his shoulder. 

A tiny laugh.

“Well, this is awkward,” is all Satoshi says, before flicking his nose in an embarrassed manner, he takes the bowls himself, while Gou is still recoiling from the honest shock of the extent of the scarring on his arms. Curiosity kindles its cruel spark, but he won’t be the kind of person who asks sensitive questions a month into knowing their neighbour.

The evening saunters towards unstable ground and Gou feels like he’s standing atop a mountain crumbling down.

“It’s fine if you want to ask, don’t worry,” Satoshi hands him the bowls, the one Gou gifted him, and he takes them without a second thought, eyes wide open.

He has a placating smile and Gou feels the mixture of curiosity and _need_ to know more about Satoshi collide with his forced good manners.

“I… wouldn’t want to—

“Gou,” he interrupts what was starting to become a panicked speech about boundaries and how he should probably leave, “I don’t mind.”

“Are you sure, I can… I can go,” his voice is strangled.

He smiles at Gou, “You don’t need to go, I cannot eat all this oden by myself,” Satoshi says that like it’s the simplest of things, like talking to people about personal, possibly traumatic information is something he does on a daily basis. 

Reasoning, Gou thinks Satoshi just does that, what with working at a social centre within a city so big caring for everyone is virtually impossible, his sleeves are still rolled up as he leaves him in the kitchen waiting for a response.

“C’mon, it’ll get cold,” only his eyes are showing from where he’s peeking through, Gou unsticks his sock-clad feet and follows him where they were sitting before, Pikachu and Raboot finally showing up to eat with them. 

He lowers himself, tries his best in showing that he doesn’t care about this newfound piece of information but Gou is not good at being nonchalant and he wears his heart on his sleeve, he might forgo words altogether because everything he feels is showcased on his face. Satoshi is filling his bowl with broth and carrots when he starts.

“It was a fire,” he says, nothing more, they’re not looking at each other and for that Gou is grateful.

“An accident really, I was eleven, a bit too reckless. Pikachu and I were the only ones caught in it,” he gives him the scalding bowl, “Nothing more, I was hospitalised for half a year, they don’t hurt anymore but the skin is sensitive, that’s why I keep ‘em covered. It goes all over my back, too. It’s also why I work for the centre. I wanted to become a trainer, when I was younger but the scars and my health… so I got around it and now I train, but in a different way.”

Satoshi’s eyes are calm, no tears, his voice gentle, not wavering. He stirs the soup and starts eating before Gou has a chance to say anything, to tell him he’s sorry that has happened to him, he gives half an egg to Pikachu and turns to him.

Gou shoves the spoon in his mouth before he blabbers nonsense like he’s known to do in delicate situations, thinks it over, after two gulps of hot broth he opens his mouth.

“I, uhm, well. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it worked well in the end, I love my job.”

“Actually,” he takes a sharp breath in, “To be true, I moved here because of my parents. Or not, really just, there’s something that doesn’t work between us and so I-, when I was ten I ran away.”

“Huh?”

Something fragile like porcelain breaks inside Gou and it simultaneously feels like a dam overflowing and a drop of water falling in between his eyes. 

“I desperately wanted my parents’ attention, so,” he gets the absurd need to sneeze, “So I ran away, said to my friends I was searching Mew. Didn’t even have a pokémon, yet, but I got to Nibi and my grandma had to drive all the way from Kuchiba to get me, my parents were too busy,” he lets out a bitter laugh.

“That’s rough.”

“W-well, you got stuck in a fire,” Gou mumbles, whistles are going off in his ears and the strong flavour of the broth is helping him by forcing him to drink.

“Ah, yes? But the scars are cool.”

Gou turns his head, eyebrows raised so high they are hiding in his hairline, “Are you for real?”

Satoshi shrugs, his bowl is already empty and he’s filling it again, Gou knows in this moment that he was lying about not being able to eat the whole thing alone.

“Sure, I told you, I was eleven. I had time to come to terms with them.”

Gou would like to say the same, except he does not have any scarring to show Satoshi.

“What happened, then?”

“What?”

“With Mew, what happened.”

He doesn’t ask about his parents.

“Nothing, I grew up, Koharu gave me an earful and I stopped trying to turn into a possible criminal. It’s not really a story I just felt like- yeah. A story for a story.”

A few beats pass, Gou finishes eating and Sobble wakes up, demands dinner, too. Satoshi says _I’ll get it_ and he’s left with a lighter heart, it feels oddly even. 

“Do you want ice cream?” Satoshi already has two of those ice cream sandwiches with bad puns written down on them in his hands and he waves them in his direction like a trophy. 

Gou doesn’t have to agree because Satoshi sits down next to him and gives one yellow package to him without a word. 

“What does yours say?” Satoshi asks, he’s breaking his ice cream in half to share with Pikachu, a tuft of hair hides his forehead and eyes but he doesn’t look like Gou feels, like a truck hit him straight in his solar plexus leaving him trudging on the concrete to reach the other side of the road. 

“Prepare to be a-mew-sed,” Gou snorts, he doesn’t like vanilla much so he gives that half to Raboot and Sobble. 

Satoshi raises his head, finally, a smug twinkle in his irises and the infamous smile perched on his face like he owns the world and he’ll show it to you, no matter how little you know him or how much you underestimate his ability to surmount metaphorical and literals mountains alike. 

“Fitting, isn’t it?” 

Gou sighs, he is tempted to stick his thumb in his eye socket and scavenge inside his brain to get rid of the stupid feelings infecting his brain and immune system, and the stupid bet with Koharu, too.

“Yeah, it is.”

* * *

The mother code for the next line of washing machines is a success, there is a company meeting with a very contained applause and mulled congratulations that felt like air in his brain. Renji looked a second away from collapsing to the ground and Kikuna was going off about doing better with the promotion team in order to sell an affordable appliance to everyone in Kanto.

Naturally, they go out for drinks the same night, Gou fully intends on getting wasted because Koharu has a license and she volunteered to drive him home; in retrospect this is where he should’ve realised something was off. 

They enter the izakaya huddling close because of the October coldness, the same waiter with the forlorn eyes giving them the menus even though they order the same thing every time. Renji looks a bit reluctant, Gou thinks it’s because the blond’s as sleep deprived as he is and they cope in different ways, but Gou is not going to worry about anyone else business but his own, at least this night. 

“Do you have any plans for the holidays?” Kikuna asks, insisting that she has to buy the first round since she’s everyone’s senior.

Gou is too tired, he doesn’t have to care about washing machines for a long time now, and the fact that the all of Kikuna’s drinks are always on the house is not an impending problem in that moment, when a plate of yuba is deposited in front of him along with his usual lemon beer, and the smokey, oozy atmosphere of the bar offers him enough of a distraction not to be bothered about Kikuna never actually paying. 

“You mean in December?” Renji is stirring a colorful drink, he doesn’t like beer since he has the taste of a five year old and whatever liquid is inside the martini glass has enough sugar that it holds the promise of making their coronaries burst out by the third sip.

“Isn’t it a bit too early?” Gou asks, eyes prickling with sleepiness.

Kikuna chides, “It’s never too early to think about vacation time,” she says, like she’s delivering the wisest adage ever, “We could do something together, like we said last time” she suggests, stealing something from Koharu’s plate. It’s not a weird thought considering how they are always together, for a reason or another.

Kikuna doesn’t visit her parents, as a rule, she mentioned them in passing once or twice, but Gou already has the one piece of information that completes the bigger picture and he never asks about how they are doing. 

She speaks fondly of her younger sister, though, she’s in university studying biotechnologies and wishing to be a doctor, they all got the fomented speech about how proud Kikuna is of her, but she’s also in Unova and except for special occasions they rarely see each other.

Gou is an only child, he thanks the gods for that because he doesn’t think he would’ve been able to share the scarce attention he received as a kid with another person, and his relationship with his parents is stranded at best, dead at worst.

Renji is a bit of an unknown variable: he never talks about himself, his parents or the eventual sibling, Gou spent the first year of their friendship not even knowing how old he was. 

_Drunk_ Kikuna likes to theorise about his actual father being an inventor and Renji his robotic son born out of the spare parts of a car, and the most worrying thing is that the blond never denies or confirm anything, but he sometimes disappears from the circulation only to return a week or so later, Kikuna says he’s logging in to upgrade his software, Koharu and Gou know he visits his grandparents in Sekichiku, he once brought a postcard to them. 

Koharu has loving parents and a slightly annoying younger brother, but she likes her independence too much to rely on them and they see each other only when Gou is also going back to Kuchiba. 

As a matter of fact, they are fundamentally marooned into a bigger city that doesn’t recognize them as their own and they created this tiny, nuclear family of their choice that has a gravitational pull so hard not even the harshest of disagreements can break them apart. 

It was sown out of the desperation lonely people who find each other often carry on their backs, but it bloomed because they understood the mutual aid something like this required. 

“Can’t,” says Renji, asking for a second serving of pickles, he’s probably the only reason the izakaya keeps making them, since their flavour is so strong it could make a Salamence faint, “I’ve got that internship going on and I have to prepare.”

Kikuna deflates a bit, “Not even for a few days? We don’t even have to go outside of Yamabuki, plenty of things to do here.”

Renji scratches his head, he looks exactly like Françoise in that moment, “Dunno,” he starts. Kikuna looks at him pleadingly and they start bickering like children, so Gou tunes them out in favour of finishing the goma-ae Raboot is too stuffed to keep eating.

That’s also when he notices how Koharu hasn’t even touched her water or the karaage she keeps on ordering even though nobody knows what it’s really made of.

“You alright?” 

Koharu turns to him, her eyes unfocused and a pensive frown on her face.

“Yeah, just… I’ll tell you later.”

She takes a big gulp out of her glass, Gou figures it’s best to wait for her to finish before starting to create dangerous scenarios in his head so he nods, their universal sign for _take your time, I’ll be here_ , and turns to Kikuna and Renji who are still arguing on whether a weekend at a spa in the city could be equivalent to two days spent in the mountains, they both disagree but for total different reasons and it’s kind of fun to just hear them talk about the benefits of mud baths and soon enough the squabble turns into a very heated debate about skin care and microwaves, Gou isn’t really sure. 

Koharu doesn’t talk much, she never really does unless she has something to say, but no one is used to see her so out of place, gaze fixed on the torn-up, ancient poster of a concert that took place ages ago, perhaps even before they were born. 

Kikuna raises a questioning eyebrow once, but Gou shrugs and brings back the topic of what they should do over the holidays.

When they pay, scuttling away to avoid getting stuck in small talk with the old owner of the shop, they all say goodbye in high spirits, even Koharu seems less lost in thought, which is good considering that Gou is a little tipsy and she has to drive him home.

“What was that?” he asks, as he deposits Raboot and Sobble in the backseat. Koharu turns on the engine and then the radio, meaning that even though she doesn’t look like it she’s still worried about something.

“The month is almost up,” is all she says and all the alcohol he drank suddenly makes a sharp u-turn from his blood vessels to settle back in his stomach once again, giving him heartburn.

“Y-yeah?” he finds it hard to believe that the gloominess of her mood was created by their bet.

Koharu drives fluidly in the traffic of the neon lit city, she doesn’t speak for a while and then, almost as if it’s requiring her too much air to form the words in her mouth, she breathes out;

“Are you still up for it?”

Gou sees her reflection in the foggy window, “I mean—

“Because I was thinking,” she interrupts rapidly, he knows she won’t be able to talk unless she spits it all out, ripping the bandaid and all that, “I was thinking, aren’t we too old for this kind of thing, anyways?”

Gou turns, slowly moves his torso until all he can look at are the backlights of the cars in front of them, he nervously bites his lip. 

The thing is, Koharu never vacillates, as a rule. She’s steadfast in her decisions and carefully lays out plans that lead to objectives she knows she’ll be able to reach, Gou has known her since he can remember and she’s never once taken a risk she wasn’t able to overcome. It’s another thing he would have never expected from her, another worrying shake in his foundations. 

“Haru if you want to- if you prefer we call off the bet it’s not a problem.”

Koharu squeezes her hands over the steering wheel, it makes an anticlimactic squeaking sound.

“I think it’s not really fair.”

“What is?” Gou answers sarcastically but the woman throws him a withering look and he quickly apologises.

“It wasn’t fair to you, and. And to _him_ and to me, too, it’s just. It’s dumb. I should’ve known better.”

Gou sobers up immediately after that.

He realises, few minutes past midnight, stuck in the traffic of an eclectic city that never winds down, that Koharu is not talking about the bet, the oath, whatever stupid name they decided to go with in the first place. 

Koharu is human, and she loathes that fact. She likes to pretend minor inconveniences don’t exist and giant obstacles are but pebbles in her shoe, so it’s pretty easy to pinpoint the moment something she didn’t predict goes badly and she completely loses herself in a tiny glass of water. In that, they are perhaps a bit too similar.

“Koharu—

“I know, I know,” she says, and she probably does, because lies and hidden words have never worked between them, “I need a few days to… get my shit together.”

“Okay,” he bites off a piece of skin from the corner of his mouth and munches on it nervously, he forgot his chapstick at home. 

“Are _you_ alright, though?”

“Me?” Koharu nods, the congestion on the road is melting by the minute and Gou’s building gets closer.

“You seem… happier, more relaxed. Are you on drugs?”

“What?!” he splutters, Koharu seems completely serious.

“I’m just asking, I don’t remember the last time you were this calm without—

“I don’t do _drugs_ ,” Gou wants to clip her on the ear but she’s currently responsible for all of their lives so he controls his urges. 

He’s also terribly embarrassed by the fact that he’s been winding down the amount of daily caffeine because Satoshi invited him to his morning runs around the park that left him so tired and full of melatonin he started sleeping seven solid hours at night after one week. 

Koharu looks suspicious, “What did you do,” she says, flatly.

“You don’t make any sense, what the hell?”

“Sometimes you have this weird expression on your face, like a tiny smile all wiggly.”

“You’re crazy, are _you_ on drugs?”

“Stop avoiding the question.”

“Stop asking stupid questions, then!”

The woman parks in front of his building, she glares at him as he gets out of the car, “This doesn’t mean that you can stop coming to the gym, by the way.”

Gou exhales and the breath immediately fogs up in front of his face, “Koharu—

“You’re not off the hook, I mean that—

“Koharu, go _home_.” 

She sneers when he closes the door with too much force. Raboot is barely standing and there is no point in trying to wake Sobble up so he scoops them both up in his arms and waves at Koharu from the sidewalk. 

Gou lets out a deep breath, his own life feels like it’s turning into a shitty romance book you buy from tiny seaside stores to occupy time and he doesn’t know how to take it in. 

As he gets ready for bed, his phone rings once, disturbing Raboot who almost breaks it thinking it’s probably the alarm. Gou searches for it in the darkness of the room with only the bathroom light on to allow him to avoid stubbing his toes and he looks at the message with an air of fond vexation.

 _I’ll b in Kanto 4 a week. wanna meet up?_ it reads. Gou types in a _sure_ and tries to sleep.

* * *

It’s not often that he sees Tokio, with being from a different region and a competitive trainer, too, he’s never really around to hang out with. 

They keep in contact, because of the same reasons Gou and Koharu are still attached to the hip, but their lifestyles differ too much from one another, and if at seven and then at fifteen and the last time at nineteen, before the pro-team in Johto recruited Tokio, the common ground was pushing each other to reach their dreams, once Gou started university their differences began to show up like mushrooms under the rain.

After all, Mew never was actually something he cared about and Tokio disliked eating breakfast in the morning because he was a heathen, and the precarious relationship they started the second year of highschool ended even before they could decide if it was worth it or not. 

When they _do_ hang out, however, it’s always on Gou’s term, mostly because Tokio’s kind of a celebrity and he likes the attention too much to be bothered to hide from crowds of fainting groupies. So they huddle inside his apartment or whatever luxurious room Tokio’s PR team rented for him during the low season, hiding from people outside and catching up, more often skipping straight to getting drunk. 

Gou didn’t really want to take two trains all the way over the other side of the city, but Tokio’s bougie hotel has heated floors and service room and Gou has never been stoic enough to deny himself glass bottled water coming from the highest Kalosian springs.

“And you’re telling me Koharu has been acting crazy?” Tokio is sprawled all over the satin chaise longue in his white bathrobe that oozes opulence all over the place, Gou is avoiding his gaze by insisting his cold finger over the threadcount of the sheet of his bed.

“Don’t say _crazy_ , just she started asking questions...” Gou flops over, the plump mattress engulfing his form in a way he is not used to seeing that his futon is quite old and barely holds any warmth. 

“I think you’re fucked.”

Gou scoffs, rolls on his side to face Tokio who is now sipping green tea out of an antique-looking cup, one leg raised over the back of the seat and his head cushioned by some pillows, he’s going to choke himself if he keeps drinking like that but Gou doesn’t feel magnanimous seeing that Tokio is not helping at all. 

They always had this ongoing rivalry that imbued their interaction the way a vine tangled itself over the tree, it needed serious grooming that neither of them as children were able to do, let the vine reach the top without trimming the tendrils trying to rip apart the bark of its host and all you ended up having was two dead plants: one died suffocating, the other ripped by the gardener in revenge.

Gou is sure, a thought he does not like to paddle too much in for the sake of his liver and all his stomach fluids, that if they had met under different circumstances, perhaps when they were older and more sure of themselves, they could’ve worked. 

Then he remembers Tokio is never going to file down his edges to fit better inside a relationship, he needs to find someone as sharp as him, a perfect match, Gou never was him, no matter how many times they tried to glue their pieces together something remained _off_ , in the end, he is just glad they are still friends, too much knowledge of each other to really leave. 

“I didn’t ask for your opinion.”

“You did, in fact, the whole point of you meeting me here was to whine about this new paramour of yours.”

Gou rolls his eyes upwards, catches the sight of the lavish chandelier hanging from the ceiling and feels completely out of place in this hotel that has been created to fit a clientele way different than this daily nine-to-six office man who thinks the old gateau they sell at most airports is the epitome of fine dining. 

He is reminded of the gym classes in a room with no ventilation, of Satoshi and his accent and the salty broth he makes for him every Saturday because _that’s just what friends do_ even though Gou never cooked lunch for anyone but himself, trying to scroll off the memory makes him look like a puppy trying to scratch away ticks.

“Tell me about this paramour then, I want to know all the juicy details.”

Gou twists his nose at the word, “Stop saying that, what are you, my grandma?”

“Well, your grandma is a very distinguished lady,” Tokio gets up, he deposits the cup on the table next to the chaise longue and dramatically walks over to the bed, laying down next to Gou with an excruciating sigh he knows means that Tokio wants to coddle him like he’s his little brother, which doesn’t even make sense because Tokio was born in December. 

He sits with his back on the pillows, his fashionably tousled hairstyle more on the _actually_ messy side. Tokio links his ankles, pats the other side of the bed and Gou reluctantly crawls over, mustering the most innocent face he can, because he knows the moment Tokio detects a single emotion he’s done for.

“I don’t really think you’re fucked,” he murmurs, not exactly in his direction, he turns on the television to watch the League channel, since he’s a freak and Gou loves him still in a way he won’t be able to completely erase from all the ugly scars on his heart, all the times they broke each other and still couldn’t stay away.

This means that Gou _is_ fucked, partially because Tokio is trying to reassure him, which he never does unless they are trying to be _sincere_ , and it also means that he doesn’t have a single chance left to backtrack and change the subject. 

“It’s,” Gou closes his eyes and hits his head gently on the solid head of the bed, it sounds hollow, “I don’t know how to tell Koharu. I don’t think she’ll get mad, but she’ll be annoyed about the—

“The crushing on the same guy thing?”

“Yeah we do that a lot, but she looked really upset,” the presenter on the TV is talking with a Galarian accent, there are numbers rolling in and statistics Gou knows only thanks to his asinine need to always be aware of every single thing going on around him.

“Are you sure about your thing with this instructor?” 

Tokio doesn’t know who the _instructor_ is, Gou didn’t tell him, he is aware that this man exists and that his shape is human, but Gou never mentioned his name or where he’s from, on the account of a very revealing story that Satoshi once told him after the desperate confession wrung out of him that night over dinner. 

Turns out, Satoshi was quite the promise of the battling world, quick minded and a connection like no other with his Pokémon, he was bringing journalists from all over the world to a tiny village in the outskirts of Kanto, so far away from everything professor Okido chose it as his avampost for a clean and uncontaminated research. 

Everyone was chanting about his abilities and how surely the future of battling was going to change forever once this kid was old enough to partake in the never ending roll of battles and championships offered by the League, Gou has vague memories about that but he wasn’t exactly invested in the battling scene as a child and all he really knew Masara from was for Okido’s research lab. But words spread fast all over Kanto and one time Satoshi made it to the international news when he beated the old gym leader in Nibi at nine, the youngest in the world records.

Then, the disappearance. 

Satoshi didn’t put it in those drastic terms, he saw it as innocently as a child did: from his point of view he never perceived his story as heroic and special as everybody around him seemed to do, that evening spent in the park in front of their building felt more intimate than Gou would’ve liked, but once the first admission breaking through the tension it became a familiar ritual, spending most evenings together, Satoshi offering car rides home after the zumba classes Koharu still forces him into. 

It feels like he’s sneaking up behind her back.

Satoshi seldomly speaks about his fast rise to glory and even faster descent, but he’s very fond of the time spent at the karate dojo, he often tells Gou how much he learnt about inner strength and focus in that insightful way that swept him off his feet in the first place. 

Gou doesn’t have much to say on his part, after the sad truth of his parents most of his past was spent in a monochromatic daze he’s a bit wary of, but Satoshi always listens, always asks more questions and Gou cannot help but answer them.

He told Gou he didn’t care much about not being able to battle anymore, even if it was clear that it still hurt something deep down, the cuspid of his heart not really into the bland words of reassurance he gave him once they came to talk about it. 

But that meant Tokio had a chance of knowing who _Satoshi_ was, Gou loves him, but not to the extent of voluntarily submitting himself to a gust of gossiping over the shining boy from Masara, who is coincidentally also his neighbor. 

Tokio has a lot of virtues, but being tight lipped is not one of them, so Satoshi is just a gym instructor (a very nice, handsome gym instructor) and Gou is just living with the moral dilemma of having developed feelings for his best friend’s apparent crush. 

“Positive,” he still has his eyes closed, but he perceives more than anything Tokio lowering himself next to him, laying his head on Gou’s shoulder. 

An exhale and the television turning off, only the sounds of the droplets hitting the balcony glass door in its wake. 

Raboot and Sobble are with Koharu and her family over at the Sakuragi institute, a monthly check up Koharu’s father insists upon them and since Gou has family privilege he never says no, even though the sensation of a missing limb still lingers in their presence. 

“I don’t think there’s a clear _solution_ to this,” Tokio says, his cheek pressed gently over the knob of Gou’s humerus. 

“The best thing you can do is talk to Koharu about it, and I mean the worried part not the crush part, we’ve already established you’re gone,” he continues, the gentle weight of his body is anchoring.

Gou understands that it’s the only logical answer to the whole ordeal, but the matters of heart are as embarrassing as they were at fourteen and Koharu is still kind of upset over Tobio and few other boys in university Gou’d rather not think about, considering they were mostly found clubbing in certain districts of Yamabuki which name he’s sure would make his grandma faint.

“I don’t think we’ve established anything about the crush thing,” is all he can say, eyes and stomach both closed. Tokio chuckles.

“Listen,” Tokio pinches his forearm, “You like him. Koharu called off the bet, for all I care you’ve got free range, baby, shoot your shots. Koharu, however,” Gou feels the moist air of his breath over his cheek, “is worried. About _something_ , that evidently needs to be discussed. So you come clean to her, because you care about each other and I know you won’t sleep until she _knows_ everything, and then you talk,”

“I,” he’s so exhausted, “You’re right,” Gou mentally opens the archive of all the things he needs to do in order of importance.

First is the laundry he forgot to hang the other day, resulting in Sobble crying all night because his favourite pillow was nowhere in sight, second is talk to Koharu, preferably over coffee and in a place with a lot of witnesses in case things turn out grime for him. 

“Huh, I like hearing you say that, you should consider complimenting me more often.” 

Gou opens one eye, enough to locate Tokio’s mouth and nose and to take one pillow from behind to suffocate him. 

He adds running away at the bottom of the list, just to be sure.

* * *

Gou spent the last week of October so tied up in his work that he forgot about the three yearly days he spends with his parents in Kuchiba for his mother’s birthday, they usually consist of a very numb lunch at a restaurant they randomly picked and an afternoon spent in his room avoiding at all costs the confrontation about his life and his choices his father sometimes like to put them through for the sake of no one but the pretense of having a functional, happy, normal family. 

The other two days Gou can count on his parents work to come in and save him from the unnecessary silence at the kitchen table. 

He cannot even go to the sea, since in November the waters of the gulf are so cold they almost freeze and he’s too scared to lose Sobble at the port to comfortably walk there alone.

He mostly uses what time he has to unwind, focus on something else that isn’t creating a functioning program for whatever eccentric appliance Silph Co. deems necessary to the world, which means he spends hours upon hours taking apart old computers and wiring them up in something that works and resembles a piece of technology from the decade they currently live in. 

It’s more like a mentally tasking crossword than anything else and he likes the feeling of knowing something old and thrown away can be salvaged and repurposed, he guiltily swallows down the hypocritical comments he made about the social centre, what this says about his character Gou’d rather not think about. 

“Are you sure you don’t want to come with us?” 

His mother opens the door to his room with an hesitance he feels he doesn’t deserve, Gou turns from his desk and waves his hand.

“It’s fine, I’ll stay here in case someone calls you,” he doesn’t look at her, but he knows there is a sorrowful expression on her face. 

“Alright, we’ll buy you natto, is that fine?” 

“Sure, thanks. Bye.”

It’s the driest tone he’s ever used with his mother, Gou tries his best to be civil and understanding, but at the end of the day he thinks he has a right to complain about this situation, even if it’s just in his head or to Raboot who doesn’t get how mixed feelings and trauma work, but who tries his best to provide comfort, even if it’s just heating up his fur and napping on his side when their watching the shitty reruns of that game show his grandmother was obsessed with. 

The woman mutters a goodbye back and Gou hears the front door click close behind them, he lets out a grunt and resumes his work in cleaning the frame of an old handheld game console he bought last year on a whim and that has been sitting on his shelves ever since. 

He messes around for a while, just checking if the chips are still working, before his cell phone rings, Koharu’s face taking up the screen. 

He’s tried to steer away from her, with the excuse of being overburdened by work, which was true, and he’s forgot to tell her he was going to visit his parents but Gou is pretty sure she knew that already.

“Hello?”

Koharu doesn’t even greet him, “Are you in Kuchiba, yet?”

“Uh, yeah? Arrived this morning, why?”

Koharu clears her voice, over the speaker it sounds muffled, background noise he thinks is from the bullet train station in Yamabuki.

“I need to tell you something, wait for me at the harbor?” 

A heavy stones settles over the mouth of his stomach, blocks his airways all the way through so hard Gou assumes he’s about to die suffocated, his mouth dries and his gums turn the consistency of moldy bread, he manages to avoid puking out bile only because Sobble moves in his sleep making a screwdriver fall from his desk.

“A-alright. Everything okay?”

Koharu says: _yes_ , like he’s supposed to believe her, like they’re going to talk about changing the ugly curtains in Gou’s apartment and not something that has a life changing feeling by the tone in Koharu’s voice. 

“Don’t panic, you already know most of it.”

“I do?” 

Koharu hangs up. 

Gou lets out a trembling huff, turning over Raboot who has been kicking an old bouncy ball against the wall for the past hour, the thumping noise comforting in his ears, and he thinks the look on his face is self explanatory enough because the pokémon drops the ball and comes up to him with a worried frown on his face. 

“How do you feel about a trip to the harbor?” he asks, even though in his mouth the words taste unconvincing and barely held together. 

Raboot is trying hard to detect the inclination, but he recognises the word and by that point it’s only a matter of taking the warmest coat he has and slipping on his trainers before the smell of dried salt and _sea_ hits him in the face.

Gou holds Sobble tighter, knot already forming in his throat. A stranger could ask him anything about Kuchiba and Gou would be able to give them direction based on long-term memory and feelings alone: that’s where I gave my first kiss, he would say, and point to a bookshop that used to be a corner store, here is where I used to come and hide from my parents, an old building that no longer exists. 

It’s surreal, coming back and having vivid memories of how the city used to look and understanding that no matter how much he loves the motionless status quo of things, they won’t wait for him to be able to let them go. 

Gou careens stubbornly in the direction of the pedestrian bridge overseeing the gulf and connecting the two branches of Kuchiba together, there is a tiny alcove where Koharu and him used to meet after school to throw the remains of their lunch to the Wingulls, they barely fit in even when they were considerably smaller, Gou just hopes Koharu isn’t there just to throw him in the water. 

When he sees her, Koharu is standing in front of the railing, a scarf so massive it covers the lower half of her face, some of Yamper’s hairs on the fabric and on her jacket, but the pokémon is not around and Gou assumes she went to see her parents first; he is a bit relieved, it means that whatever Koharu has to tell him is not warrant to completely destroy his life. 

“Hi,” he says, burrowing inside the collar of his turtleneck.

Gou passes Sobble to Raboot with the explicit indication of not letting him go, and once Koharu nods in his direction they start to climb down the side of the bridge, the slope is steeper than he remembers. 

When his feet are dangling from the platform, Koharu sitting next to him so close they might as well permeate into one another, she starts talking.

“I asked Satoshi out, last week.”

Gou almost falls over.

“We went on a date and,” they both gulp at the same moment, but Koharu doesn’t continue and Gou is sure that he _will_ fall over this time, just because he actually jumped himself.

“Did it… not go well?”

Koharu inhales sharply, the top of her cheekbones is starting to turn the same shade as her hair, the wind is merciless down here and Gou wonders just how exactly they managed to spend their afternoons in this nook all by themselves. 

“That’s the thing, it was. You know I’m not the type of person to use this word lightly but it was perfect. He was perfect,” the worst thing happens, Koharu is tearing up, her voice is getting choked and she stifles a sob with the cloth of her scarf. 

Gou doesn’t know how to act, the two instances where he had to comfort a crying Koharu were both a disaster and he’s never been good with feelings, be them his own or other’s. 

“Sorry, sorry,” she sniffs and if Gou could he’d get closter, “It’s just, a lot of things have been happening these days. You weren’t the only one stressed.”

“I wasn’t—

“Gou.”

“W-well, why didn’t you tell me, w-uh, why did you want to call off the bet if you actually asked him out?” 

“I felt bad and— ‘cause after I asked you about it I _knew_ , alright, your face gets all mushy whenever you look at him and at first I was annoyed but then I just, I don’t know it’s not like I was in _love_ with him or anything, it was mostly his muscles, really,” on that at least Gou can agree.

She lets out a bitter laugh, Koharu doesn’t look at him, her eyes are fixed on the wharf underneath them, the breakwaters inhabited by coastal Pokémon and Gou’s wrist watch that once fell down, probably still there. 

“I’m… sorry,” he says.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for, I think this was bound to happen. I kind of expected it, to be honest. I’m glad it did,” she lowers her gaze and starts picking at a loose thread in her heavy, navy skirt.

“I guess I offered you the deal mostly because I wanted to prove myself and, and help you at the same time since you were a ticking bomb.”

“It wasn’t that bad…”

“Shut up, we both know your perception of your own problems is fucked because nothing is _as bad_ as when you were in high school, I’m telling you even if you’re not clinically depressed looking like a zombie is not a good thing, forcing you to come to those stupid zumba classes was the least I could do to assure you weren’t withering away like a child sick with pneumonia.”

“So you _also_ think they are stupid.”

“ _Gou_.”

Koharu’s eyebrows are furrowed and it almost looks comical on her, like those cartoons her mother draws of her, Gou has so many things stuck in his throat that he’s struggling to answer.

“Alright, you. You are right, I was stressed or whatever—

“You were on the verge of a breakdown, Gou, your eyes were _manic_. And you barely look better now.”

“I _understand,_ thank you. What I don’t understand is what you were so worried about, why didn’t you just tell me?”

The woman folds her legs, brings the knees to the chest and puffs out a tired breath, she closes her eyes and for a few seconds the only noise breaking them apart is the waves on the docks, most people are inside since the tide is rising and it’s cold as shit, really Gou thinks they could have had this conversation somewhere characteristically more comfortable but this cranny in between the city holds a special place to them, he understands. 

He turns back to check on Sobble and Raboot, they are drawing on the chalky concrete with a piece of carbonised wood Gou’s grandma gave him when he was still a Scorbunny. 

“It’s stupid.”

“You know me, chance is I’ll be stupider than you.”

Koharu laughs, “It’s work, mostly. I have been offered a position in Kalos,” she looks pained, Gou swallows dry, “I really want to accept.”

“It’s not stupid.”

“I feel so bad, Gou, I don’t want to leave you and, and Kikuna and Renji. My family, too, but—

“But it’s Kalos.”

A resigned air to her face, “But it’s Kalos.”

“And everything kind of submerged me, then after the date Satoshi told me he was glad he got to know me better, that he’s glad _you_ have such a good friend,” Gou explodes into a short giggle and Koharu lets out a bone-weary chuckle, “I _know_ , stop laughing I couldn’t believe it.”

They clear their throat, “It made me feel selfish, thinking of Kalos and then asking a man out with no actual intention of doing anything besides proving you that I could do it—

“I think,” he interrupts her before this turns any more self-deprecating than Koharu deserves, “You have been the opposite of selfish for the longest time.

“You always burden yourself with other people’s problems, mine too and. Accepting a job offering where you always wanted to live doesn’t mean you are being _selfish_. I’m sorry if I made you think this way, you. I love you, I care about you so much and I know you do the same, but I’m not your responsibility. No one is.”

Koharu turns his way, even if Gou cannot see her mouth he knows she’s pouting, “Satoshi said the same thing, too. The whole date felt more like a psychotherapy session than anything.” 

A distinctive sensation rises from the back of his neck, all the way to his brain and then, pretending to be glib, it pummels deep down his synaps, pressure in his nose and a bad taste on his tongue. He’s been so comfortable with Koharu he forgot one of the most important things he’s always told himself, resting on the known laurels of the convenient facts he decided to believe in.

“He tends to do that, doesn’t he?” the sour taste in his mouth dissipates when Koharu slumps on his shoulder, she links one arm under his elbow and brings their gloved hands together, resting. 

Koharu exhales, lets out a tiny sound, “What has our life become, sighing over the same boy.”

“We always do, it’s tradition.”

“A stupid tradition we established in middle school, I wish we didn’t have the same type.”

“Not my fault you’re straight.”

They laugh it over, a peace settling down on their bones and frigid skin, even with the heavy clothing the cold still penetrates deep under them. Over the sea, Gou thinks he’s regressing to older days where everything was just as complicated.

His eyes are lucid and he knows Koharu’s are too, “I want you to know that— even if you think I’m about to explode, that— that you can tell me everything, anything. Alright?”

Koharu nods, she sniffs once, twice, Gou’s gums itch and he feels like his teeth are chattering so loudly they’re about to involuntarily bite his tongue off. 

“I’m sorry I kept it from you, I didn’t want to—

“I know, I’m sorry, too.”

He gets up, tries his best to dust the back of his pants that look like they have frozen by sitting on the cold cement and offers his hand to Koharu, who takes it with a grumble. Making their way upwards is more difficult, but they manage with a bit of struggling and the weirded out stare of the mother picking her children from school. Gou awkwardly smiles at her.

“Want to come to mine? Mom has bought natto, I think,” he picks up Sobble, he looks a bit lethargic.

“I fucking hate natto, let’s go.”

* * *

Even if she’s all business on the outside, Kikuna is a very gentle person, in every sense of the word: she looks kind and she speaks softly to everyone, like they’re a newborn. 

This is one of the two reasons why Gou likes to ask her for advice, the other one is that she’ll tell to you, with nice words and a cup of warm tea or fresh juice depending on the season, that you’re dumb and that you should reevaluate your options and the spirits only know Gou desperately needs to hear that. He takes the decision on a whim, after he started crying when the father of the main character of a drama died and he realised he really needed to talk to a sane person to set things right.

Gou thinks she doesn’t look too surprised to see him standing in front of her door (in fact, she says: I’ve been waiting for you) a bag full of those weird chocolate wafers that looks like logs she adores in his hands and a frown on his face, mostly because he assumes she already talked with Koharu, apparently being both women beats being gay as a common ground when it comes to the priorities of emergency meeting and he can’t really fault them for that, can he. 

“Koharu told me most of it, but I think you’re here for a different reason, aren’t you?” she takes the sweets from his hands and ushers him inside, there is the scent of a citrus candle filling the room and the mostly white furniture makes the whole apartment appear brighter. 

“Uh, sure, yeah?” he sits down, Raboot is sniffing around and Sobble is pulling his hair and it’s weird because Kikuna doesn’t have any pokémon of her own, she’s probably one of the few people he knows like this; it shouldn’t sound strange but it radically is _different_ , he gets the feeling that Kikuna is just otherworldly. 

“I’ll make some tea,” she mutters and he can hear her turning on the kettle and rummaging through the drawers for the tea, Gou reclines his head over the couch and breathes in the citrus, breathes out days-old weariness. 

Something is stuck inside his esophagus, the bones of his throat working restlessly to make him spit it out and before he knows it Kikuna puts a steaming mug in front of him with a worried frown.

“Oh dear,” she says, sitting down next to him and Gou realises he’s started quietly crying in the middle of one of his best friends’ apartment. 

“Sorry—

“Don’t start apologising, it’s fine, yeah? Crying is good,” her hands are on Gou’s forehead now, pushing back his greasy hair, he feels bad about it but after three days spent hooled inside his room and a whole week of calling in sick to work from home he didn’t really care about how much his head was starting to look like the floor of a shady fast-food joint. 

“I feel like all I’ve been doing is crying, for shitty things, too.”

Kikuna gets closer, she’s inherently warm, the human equivalent of a wool blanket.

“One day I think I’m fine and then everyone is here telling how _not fine_ I actually am and I’ve never noticed, but the moment I do it all falls over my head breaking my neck.”

“That’s normal, Gou, people cope in different ways.”

“ _How_ is any of this normal, I’m a grown up crying about my best friend moving away, my unresolved parental issues and a man who has been nothing but nice to me,” Sobble lets out a distressed noise and Gou cradles him closer to his heart.

“Believe it or not, you won’t magically find the answer to your problems the moment you hit twenty.”

The woman is silent for a few seconds, she turns towards him completely, her side to the back of the couch and she slowly but steadily brings Gou closer, traps him in her arms and shields him from the encumbering dark clouds of broken hearts and disappointments obscuring his eyes. 

“I feel like this is partially my fault,” she says, her head is atop his, Gou sneaks his hands over her hips and locks them behind her scapulae. 

“It’s not, I did this all on my own.”

“Have you talked—

“No, I didn’t. I keep avoiding him, and I feel even worse because he doesn’t deserve this,” he burrows more in Kikuna’s neck, wetting her cotton shirt with left-over tears and she makes a calming noise, cradling the back of his head, lifting it.

She gives him the still-steaming mug and offers a subdued smile, Gou thinks _I’m taking this out on her_ but he seems to predict his next sentence because she pats him on the cheeks, squishing his mouth shut.

“Listen, you’ll go home and you’ll take a shower, change your beddings, eat something. Then, you think about what _you_ want, because all I’ve been hearing these days is people who are always putting a cast on their arms before they’ve even broken it, and once you have that, you tell him,” Gou is about to talk but she continues, “Baby steps, alright? You don’t need to have all the answers right now.”

He nods but the confusion in his head doesn’t clear and imbues everything with its foggy consistence, the last week has been a constant rising of repressed emotions, he only lasted a few days before he started to somatize the anxious monster gnawing at his stomach and even if Koharu explicitly told him she wasn’t angry anymore, not even at herself, he still got the sensation that she wasn’t ecstatic, either. Kikuna stands up, hands him some tissues and he loudly blows his nose, waking Sobble up and scaring Raboot.

“Are you okay with going home by yourself? You can stay for a while, I don’t mind.”

“No… no I should go,” Gou rubs his eyelids, “It’s cold season anyways, people are going to assume I’m just sick or something.”

“Alright, call me if you need anything, yeah?”

He nods, and he’s off. 

* * *

The trek from Kikuna’s apartment to his building takes him one awkward train ride with people throwing him worried looks on behalf of his red rimmed eyes and constant sniffing and a twenty minute walk from the bus station next to the low rising, more rural buildings. 

There is an underpass that nobody uses anymore, it connects one of the routes that lead outside the city to the suburbs of Yamabuki and it’s a bit overgrown: weeds are sprouting from the concrete and the signs painted on the road are crusty with age, no longer visible. 

Gou spends a few minutes inside, because mid October weather is precarious and it didn’t occur to him to bring an umbrella, Raboot is looking mildly uncomfortable while he holds Sobble’s paw trying to avoid losing him under the pouring rain. 

“It’s either this or getting drenched, bun,” he crouches down, sits on the dismal, humid pavement and thinks: no better place than this for some much needed self reflection. He thinks: I was sad and stressed and I managed to compress those feelings so well I didn’t even notice.

He bites his nails and scratches his eyes, again, making them possibly redder but he doesn’t have anything to see his reflection in, which is probably for the best and he keeps on thinking.

Koharu will move away, that is a fact. When, it’s unknown, but he still knows that it’ll always be too soon. She said: it won’t be a problem, we won’t make it a problem. And Gou convinces himself it won’t, because he and Tokio still talk almost every day and they see each other whenever they can and they’re still friends, aren’t they. Raboot huddles close, the constant heat of his tiny body perfusing under his denim jacket. 

Gou believes in few, metaphorical things and even fewer physical ones and Koharu’s friendship has been one of the most grounding matters he’s ever known. He wonders if the universe’s timing is always so wrong because this plethora of new emotions shouldn’t occur to anyone, ever. 

He spends so much time crouched under this dusty overpass that only Raboot shaking his harm with the help of Sobble make him notice that the sun is lowering and that the rain has stopped, puddles formed for the happiness of children and the dismay of whoever will be in charge for the laundry.

Gou gets up, travels on the bumpy road all the way home. 

Glass skyscrapers bleeding into bricks buildings and the rising courage in his belly protruding its tiny but feverish arms to his limbs, hitting his cerebellum and enlightening him with newfound knowledge he thinks is a bit out of place in front of the door of his apartment, ugly jacket and moist, greasy hair.

Gou knows he promised Kikuna at least a night of rest before committing to this weird, self-sacrificing act of perception but he also gets the feeling that if he were to wait for another hour his brain would deflate and all the adrenaline rushing through his veins forever forgotten.

He holds the ultimate decision in his hands while standing on his welcoming mat, nose runny. He clumsily opens the apartment, almost forgets to take off his shoes and swiftly runs into his bathroom, takes the most scalding shower he can and for lack of better thinking changes back into the clothes he wore before. On the way to his bedroom he gets a glimpse of the lights turning on after sunset.

Yamabuki at night is lonelier than outer space itself. That doesn't mean it's empty: there's plenty of people either returning home or going out, cars are always passing by, children practicing their piano skills for the school recital can be heard two houses away, Pokémon constantly making noise. Lonely means, to Gou, the estranged feeling that deluges inside his body whenever he unlocks his apartment door and he's greeted by darkness and the breeze that comes from the window he forgot half opened. He looks around, the kitchen, the tiny bathroom still overflowing with steam, a balcony that feels like a blessing from the gods when summertime rolls around unprompted and offers the only escape from stale air. 

Gou deposits a sleeping Sobble on his bed on the windowsill of his bedroom, the futon is still rolled up inside the wardrobe, his alarm is set for six in the morning even if tomorrow is Sunday. He eyes the computer, then keeps taking decisions.

He knocks on Satoshi’s door, hoping it’s not too late but the older opens it with a toothbrush in his mouth and a stain of toothpaste on his shirt, a silly pajama, there are Psyducks on his pants. It’s a bit anticlimactic if anything, really, Gou doesn’t know what he expected but it’s probably the soap opera he’s been binge watching lately that is at fault.

Satoshi cocks his head, doesn’t say anything but moves away from the entrance and Gou, Raboot at his feet, slips inside without a sound. It’s difficult to remind himself of the vacuum of the city when Satoshi’s lights are warm and his television is on, old reruns of Hoenn Rangers playing in the background.

“Did you eat?” ever since Gou has known him, Satoshi has never asked outright if he’s fine, he prefers throwing careful remarks: if he’s eaten, taken a shower, if he wants to go for a run (the answer is often no, he still asks). Gou is extremely thankful for that, he says: no I haven’t. The reply is _I’ll make you fried rice_. 

Gou wants to stop him, but he collapses on the ground in front of the television, there is a new carpet there, Pikachu sleeping under the low table, Mishiro Crimson is giving an earnest speech to Hajitsuge Bordeaux, to remind him of what they are fighting for, in the background there are explosions and it looks a bit funny, at twenty-four, but he enjoys the distraction from the thought of Satoshi making him dinner. 

He eyes the bowl of fried rice laid in front of him and picks it up carefully, the other deposits a plate of pokémon food in front of Raboot, who looks at him for confirmation before digging in. He says thank you for the meal, then spoons a heap of rice in his mouth, he didn’t notice he was starving, before.

“I used to love this show, I wanted to be like Kanazumi Ivory,” Satoshi says, he steals a stir fried carrot from Gou’s bowl, even if he just brushed his teeth. He always does that, Gou thinks the man could eat carrots and nothing else.

“One time I convinced my mum to buy me a ticket to Minamo because they were doing a live event, I don’t really remember, I almost got lost on my way to the department store,” there’s a small smile on his mouth, it sits there like something well used. Satoshi is the type of person who smiles at babies and waves at them, Gou’s whole foundations feel shattered.

There is something incredibly simple and familiar in laying on the floor, mismatched socks and another boy talking about his childhood, it’s not like they made a habit out of it but it appears that whenever a personal conversation moors into Satoshi and Gou’s life they’re always sitting in Satoshi’s apartment, food before them and the sun asleep. They don’t look at each other because the weight of their combined gazes might cause a little supernova explosion.

“What happened then?” he asks, he just has to know, he carefully picks up the bowl and brings it closer to him, manners forgotten.

Satoshi shrugs, “Nothing, I wasn’t very tall back then, I couldn’t see. I made friends with a kid who didn’t recognize me and asked where my parents were and then I left.”

The silence that follows is tense, but not in a way that needs to be pierced, the rangers all work together to defeat an unlikely villain, laser guns and the force of friendship helping them in teaching kids reasonable morals the parents would also agree with; Satoshi likes to talk about his childhood so much he thinks he was there to witness it firsthand, but he never mentioned a father, not even once and Gou, in place of asking what he wants to ask, finishes his rice, gets up and washes the bowl, navigates Satoshi’s apartment easily and when he tells Gou not to worry he says back: I’ll do it.

There is a framed picture of his mother with Pikachu in her hands and a tiny boy, not a day older than eleven smiling for the camera, no father. Gou returns to the grown out version in the bigger room. 

Satoshi is still sitting down, he’s massaging the scar tissue on his left arm when he cranes his neck to look at Gou in the eyes; his ones are a house in the countryside, the shade of the bark of the trees in the park back in Kuchiba where Raboot terrorized a colony of Mankey, Gou blames this unsound thought on the fatigue.

An idea sparks in his mind, “I want to go to the roof,” he says, holds his hand out even though Satoshi doesn’t really need it. 

He takes it, nonetheless, the palm feels softer, he grabs Satoshi’s forearms, the criss cross of the cicatrix is velvety.

“To the roof?” he asks, he turns off the television and before Gou can confirm he goes to his bedroom, probably to grab a jacket, like he knows already he will follow Gou no matter how bizarre his requests are, he doesn’t know what to do with this information. 

“Yeah,” Gou says, watching his back, he only has the jumper from before and his jeans, he knows he should pick a coat too, because his hair is still somewhat damp and so high up the winds aren’t as forgiving as they are when he reads on his balcony, but Satoshi comes back and offers him one of his oversized sweaters, one he will drown in. 

Raboot is already at the entrance, too short to be able to touch the handle, but they go out together, the three of them, Pikachu left asleep as a guardian of the house, silently climbing two flights of stairs, Satoshi opens the metal door, because it is jammed and the moment they’re outside a gust of wind hits Gou straight in the face. 

There it is, the solitude crammed inside city lights and his building's roof completely deserted but for them and Raboot hopping from the ventilation box to a fiber cement panel broken into two pieces. Gou huddles in his sweater, his eyes prickle from the cold and he can see his breath form silvery condensation clouds that hide for a bit the cars passing by. 

He gets closer to the railing, a bit unsteady but it’s not like they are supposed to be there in any case. One time the mother from the third floor asked if it was possible to create a communal garden on the roof, but the idea was quickly forgotten when all the Pidgeys just ate the tomatoes they tried to plant, now it just is a desolated piece of land where Gou feels closer to the stars.

Might as well try and reach them.

“What happened to your father?” Gou doesn’t look at him, but the people underneath and the silence of the night bring out the same sort of courage he felt before.

“I don’t know,” Satoshi answers are perpetually sincere and uncomplicated, he cherishes truthfulness and will not lie to you, “ever since I can remember it’s always been my mother and I, didn’t think it was anything strange until I started elementary school and all the kids were talking about their dad’s job or something.”

“You never asked?” 

Satoshi offers a one shouldered shrug, his hair flies in his face.

“No, it’s kind of pointless, isn’t it? He’s dead at best or someone who didn’t want us at worse,” there is a bit of cognitive dissonance when Gou hears Satoshi say this, “either way he never was around, I don’t care for him, I don’t miss him.” 

Gou wants to understand the feeling of not longing for something to him forbidden, his parents were present but they also weren’t there for him, they loved him and they cared, but not enough, he wanted to go back and get them to look, cause more problems, but here is Satoshi, not worrying about a piece of his life taken away. He seems to sense something off about Gou’s gaze so he turns to him, hands on the railing.

“I think it was because mum and Mr. Mime were always there, and then there was Pikachu, even after everything happened and the injury,” he takes a deep breath, Gou can see how much he is affected, no matter the bright attitude and always present smile, “but my experiences… I don’t think you need me to say this, but you’re allowed to have mixed feelings about them, your parents, to think it was unfair, but still love them.”

Gou doesn’t say anything but turns away, he could say the tears are because of the wind, but he doesn’t think the other will believe him. 

“I—,” Gou swats down whatever stupid confession he had in mind and decides to be as sincere as the man standing next to him, “Did you know Koharu will move to Kalos?” 

“She told me about it, yes.”

He tries not to feel too jealous, “I think I’m worried.”

“Kalos is a great place,” Satoshi sits down, cross legged, “My ex girlfriend is from there.”

If Gou could he’d laugh to that, but he suddenly cannot and he just looks up, the sky is cleared by the rain but the clouds and the city make it difficult to see the lights, he doesn’t add anything to the conversation.

Satoshi clears his throat, "Do you come here often?" the awkward _anyways_ at the beginning of the sentence goes unsaid.

"Sometimes, I like to watch the street lights,” his voice is hoarse. It’s not a lie, he likes squeezing his eyes closed and then open them, to look at the amorphous conglomerate of neons and halogens.

"The street lights?"

"Yeah, they're pretty," he turns toward the other man, "What's that face for?"

Satoshi laughs, a pretty sound that propagates easily in the vastitude of the space left untouched between them, follows the sinews of the city's layout and is lost, forever.

"Nothing, I just— I assumed you would've come here to watch the stars, not the lights?"

"Can't really see the stars here, can you?"

Another shrug, Satoshi looks very soft here, he lifts one hand and rubs away some gravel stuck in the meat of his palm, he can see a tiny indent was made, Gou gets the unnatural urge to shrink himself and fill the hole with his presence.

"I think you can see them just fine."

Gou lowers himself, sits on the roof of this desolated place and looks this wondrous boy in the eyes.

“Uh,” he turns his head towards the sky, Raboot is sitting next to him, nose hidden in his fur and everything seems a little less lonely now, with another pair of lungs forming dragon breaths, “You’re right.”

* * *

The last days of November they receive a date and a place, Koharu looks so happy they all forget she’ll be moving away in less than two months. Company says it’s temporary, most likely she’ll be needed again in Yamabuki, the weirdest thing is that even Koharu looks relieved to hear that. 

As with most things, though, it’s only the start of Gou's slow descent to madness. 

So he sits all day in front of a screen and then he goes back home and does that again, because he brings work back with him and even though he does that it still piles up on his desk the morning after, words of Renji resounding in his head like a droplet hitting a steel surface. 

Raboot is shedding quite a lot, which is not unnatural but it's unsettling and Gou is vacuuming twice a day, Sobbe hates the sound so he hides. 

Satoshi, on the other hand, treads lightly on his feet around him since he probably is the only person in Gou’s life who knows how to read the room and not ignore the big fucking Donphan sitting in the middle of it. The night on the roof sits warmly inside his belly, but it’s clear Satoshi has figured out that Gou doesn’t elaborate feelings like his dear computers do, so they wait.

After a few weeks spent talking it out with Koharu they agreed on a pact of sworn silence about the previous agreement and their stupid games, after all, have always been just games. Also, considering that she actually won Gou is just happy he won’t have to fix broken dishwashers ever again, probably. 

At the end of the day, Gou is just tired. There shouldn’t be a reason, he’s working less and sleeping more, he can’t even blame it on the winding calisthenics Satoshi forced on him because, again, Satoshi looks like everytime he sees Gou’s face they will have a heavy conversation neither of them are ready for after these few months of cohabitation; there’s only this dreadful background, static noise in his head that turns the seven hours of sleep into shut-eye without resting.

The situation is absurd enough that it’s only fitting Renji is the one who approaches him first.

“Are you, like, alright?” he asks, while munching on a leaf from his salad.

Renji’s glasses are askew and his hair is messy, he probably doesn’t comb it, he has his eyes focused on the tiny laptop screen in front of him while Françoise is running diagnostics on his phone, busy with the internship or whatever informatic geniuses do (Gou should know considering he’s one himself, but his self-esteem has never been great).

They have a weird bond, born out of social awkwardness and sedimented in nights spent looking at the same screen in the hope of a green light, Gou has always found it funny how Renji could very well be working somewhere _else_ , more fitting, like a secret developmental facility hidden in the mountains, but he insisted on being there, with them. 

There goes again, the tethering link that pierces their veins and arteries and veins back again. 

Besides, it's not a bad job, he guesses, and he’s needed and he has friends and then there's the fact that he keeps going on with these soliloquies in his head which doesn’t help his case about not being stressed, but Gou figures it’s time he stops lying to himself.

“I’m— doing fine,” he concludes, after reflecting on his situation.

He could be doing worse.

Renji raises one eyebrow, not even looking at him and there’s a piece of salad in his teeth.

The program on the computer beeps once, then Françoise does this little wiggle that’s kind of endearing and Renji finally turns to him.

“I heard a new spot is opening, by the way.”

“Wh— what?”

Renji sniffs and types something one-handed, “Yeah, something ‘bout Pokémon handling, thought you’d be interested? The requirements are the same as ours, it’s all coding. Except, well, with Pokémon.”

Gou remembers something Koharu told him once, and how he likes to work with that Porygon-2, and even the crazy Rotom that always gets stuck inside the appliances, even if it means analysing different types of data and jots down the thought in one corner of his mind. For posterity.

“Also, you know, there’s psychological help offered by the company.”

Gou doesn’t take it personally, mostly because Renji can be quite blunt when he’s not thinking about what he’s saying and also because he knows, he went to the seventh floor pastel-orange room, has talked about his feelings and got sent to a doctor to get sleeping pills prescribed that work but don't help with the general situation. 

It's that they just don't make drugs to help with his specific situation. Not legal, at least.

He snorts, Renji shakes his head and looks at the screen lighting up again, but there’s a fond expression on his face.

“Thanks.”

“And that, we’re all here for you,” Renji continues, his glasses reflecting the blue light from the screen. 

He smiles, and finishes his rice, cooked with the new rice cooker and seasoned with the nori flakes Satoshi gave him.

“I know,” he does, but it’s nice to be reminded.

* * *

Gou makes a list. 

He makes several lists, actually, about anything that he might need or simply to keep the mind awake. There’s an ongoing list of prime numbers buried underneath issues of sport magazines that he writes on to pass the time. This one is a bit peculiar, in the sense that he begins and finishes it with one word, which ultimately makes it not-a-list but Gou thinks it’s the intention that counts, and if that started as a list it might as well count as one.

He puts it on the door of his fridge, white and second-handed, he makes dinner for Raboot and Sobble and for himself, too. He uses Satoshi’s old cookbook underlined with care, given to him one day after a quarrel about regional cooking. 

The other put scrap-paper as bookmarks in between the pages of the recipes _you must at least try_ , and again, it’s not like he doesn’t know how the stove works, but now it feels like it’s the right time to _try._

Koharu is trying, too, lost in the gruesome battle ground that is apartment hunting.

It's not that it's difficult to find a place in Lumiose, full of comings and goings, especially if you have a company's name to back you up, it's that she does not like when people meddle with her business and Gou has been the unwilling witness of a very heated call with her father about a spare apartment in the building of one of his old colleagues.

It's quite odd how different professors seem to all know each other. Gou, however, is not a professor and perhaps certain things must remain a secret.

So, Koharu _tries_ not to murder her father, whom she loves dearly, and also _tries_ to turn herself into a Keckleon, since she looks like she has one eye focused on Gou as if he's a vacant landmine about to be stepped on. 

He's not, at least in his opinion, and as far as everything goes Gou thinks he's been handling the _situation_ pretty well, considering that he's going to work again and he's not dreading every moment he spends awake. What the _situation_ really entails, is not exactly clear, but the anxiety subsided once he started getting more sun everyday and talking it out with his old therapist (who wasn't really surprised to hear from him again, it kind of feels like an insult, Gou is not so sure).

And he tries, again, not to choke on the poor rendition of a curry from a far away region once the doorbell rings. He succeeds, but only because the spoon wasn't even full.

Satoshi is standing in front of his door, his sleeves are raised and Gou can see the slip of skin that turns lighter and softer, more delicate. He looks as bright as usual, with messy hair and Pikachu hanging from his shoulder in a careless way. 

Gou bites the inside of his cheeks, he’s sure there’s some rice on his face so he quickly rubs his hands over his mouth even if they come away clear. Satoshi smiles at him before speaking.

“I know I may… be stepping out of line,” he starts, Gou is not so sure there’s even a line to be stepped out in the first place, seeing all the frankly too deep conversations they have had, but he lets him continue, “I just wanted to make sure that you’re— alright. Yeah.”

Pikachu swings his tail, the movement slow and rhythmic and Raboot peeks from behind Gou’s calf, Sobble is probably still eating.

“Uhm,” trying, he remembers, it’s all about trying, “Yes, I mean. I think so, I’m doing better, at least.”

Satoshi lights up, it’s impossible and Gou knows it is, but it really looks like his ears are perking up, and if he had a tail, it’d be definitely wagging. He feels the burn in his stomach subside, a little, Satoshi throws himself into a long, fast paced speech about how worried he was and he just didn’t know if it was his place to act and Gou, he tries to keep it in, can’t help but laugh.

“It’s— it’s fine,” he says, Satoshi slants his torso toward him and tosses his arms around Gou’s narrower shoulders.

It takes him by surprise, but it’s not unwelcomed and Gou, albeit a bit slower, albeit a bit more awkwardly, returns the hug. It’s quite uncomfortable, if he has to be honest with himself, Satoshi is taller but not by a lot so Gou’s forehead clumsily bumps into Satoshi’s chin, Gou’s arms have to wrap around his torso and in order to do that there’s some struggling with their hands.

It lies in the way Satoshi squeezes him just hard enough for his anchilosed back to snap in a satisfying crack, and how Gou is just a few seconds short of crying..

In the end, they don’t fit that well around each other.

Gou has a feeling they could learn to do just that. 

* * *

“You have plans for the holidays?”

“Huh?”

Satoshi sits on the bench next to him, legs wide open and eyes to the sky. He sometimes turns his head to puff out a cloudy breath in front of Pikachu who squeaks, delighted, and tries to catch them in his tiny paws. They’re watching the city wake up with them, one of the things Gou didn’t expect of this friendship was going out with his neighbour for morning runs, but Satohi’s muscles are enough to push mountains, he guesses.

“I wanted to know if you had any plan for the holidays, like this December.”

“Ah, no,” Raboot is trying to convince Pikachu to go with him to the lake, “I mean I think I had them but, well, my parents are going to work and my grandma's on a cruise. You know the rest."

Satoshi laughs, “Sure,” he agrees, every time, like Gou makes an ounce of sense.

“We’re going back to Masara to visit my mother, maybe you could come with us?” 

Pikachu makes an affirming noise, he’s preening under Satoshi’s hand currently occupied with scratching in between his ears.

"Really? Is your mother fine with that?"

"Yeah, yeah, she really wants to know you."

"I dunno…"

Raboot looks a bit defeated, so Gou gently nudges him with the point of his shoe to silently ask. Sobble agrees on whatever they want if he knows that they’ll be together so it’s kind of pointless to question him.

Raboot tries to avoid expressing outward emotions that aren’t contempt and a peculiar form of superiority, but it’s quite clear that he wants to.

Gou feels the bottom of his belly open, like a mouthless chasm, the weird thing is: it doesn’t feel that bad.

“Ah, actually, why not,” he agrees, too, “show me what country life is all about.”

* * *

Masara is small. Gou had a basic understanding of the geography before going there, by looking at pictures on his phone and thanks to the colorful stories Satoshi tells him, but knowing a town is small is different than being in a small town.

The houses are all next to each other, some of them are built in such a way that from the outside he can’t distinguish where the front door is. Masara lies in the middle of a valley and is surrounded by rice fields and vegetable paths that are covered in snow, and it looks like most of its roads (it feels preposterous to call them streets) are made of dirt. It's cramped, in a safe kind of way.

It took a three hour long train ride to reach Tokiwa and then another hour in a coughing coach cramped with grannies who shared some sweets with them. 

Their Pokémon slept for most of the ride, the two of them left whispering and giggling like children on a school field trip. Gou mentioned the possibility of a new job, once, in passing, and Satoshi brightened like a lightbulb, a smile so shiny Gou felt like the good news were for him. 

It made him settle more steadily in his own shoes, at least.

“I should warn you,” Satoshi says, when they stop in front of the door of his childhood house, “my mum tends to be— a little affectionate.”

Gou thanks the warning because Hanako, name Satoshi said he must call her, since she doesn’t like being reminded of being a _mrs._ , pulls all of them, luggage included, in an extraordinary display of strength that he’s come familiar with as the specific kind of hug Satoshi offers when someone really needs it. 

He gets it, now.

“Oh, look at you,” Hanako says, pinching Satoshi’s cheeks, who laughs, “It’s been so long, it feels like you’ve grown three sizes.”

There’s the infamous Mr. Mime behind her, also hugging Satoshi and Pikachu and Gou, too, which is strange but then Hanako looks at him and she smiles exactly like her son.

"And it's so nice to finally meet you, Gou!" she exclaims, gently patting his head in the most motherly way possible, "I'm Hanako, but I'm sure Satoshi already told you that."

She ushers them inside, while Mr. Mime takes their luggage, and hot air hits Gou's cheek. Sobble, from his shoulder, giggles in happiness. Hanako offers them tea, after forcing Satoshi to narrate their journey from Yamabuki to Masara in detail and telling that old Yukinari (and she means the _actual_ professor Okido who apparently is her neighbour, something Satoshi _failed_ to mention) is worried about his grandson in Alola.

The tea is nice as Hanako's hospitality is, and Raboot immediately follows Pikachu to the corner of the living room where a little cot and some odd shaped toys are. Satoshi doesn't speak much, which is weird, and Gou is quickly pulled into a compelling conversation about his job, out of all things.

"Oh, but you must be tired, aren't you?" her hands are resting on Satoshi's forearms, the thumb caressing back and forth.

There is a feeling, there, Gou has witnessed very few times, Satoshi nods with a sheepish smile and throws a look at him that Gou doesn't really understand but it makes a smile stretch his cheek and the ever present pit in the stomach boils warmer than the tea he's about to finish.

"It's alright," he starts, mostly to be polite but Hanako interrupts him.

"Nonsense, you boys get settled and I'll start dinner," she says, patting her son on the shoulder and giving his head a kiss.

The room they'll sleep in is Satoshi's, there's a lofted bed and an air mattress next to it, which answers one question and puts some lines on the ground, at least.

"You take the bed," Satoshi says, with an air that means that won't accept other opinions on the matter. 

Gou laughs as he opens his suitcase but sobers up quickly.

"Hey," he turns to Satoshi who is stuffing socks in a drawer, back hunched over. It's comical, seeing this grown man navigating through graphic tees that wouldn't even fit on his biceps.

"I know I said it already, but thank you," his voice wavers and cracks, Gou wets his lips when Satoshi gets up and walks closer to him.

"I didn't do anything," he says, which is not true.

"No, no you did. You're… you're just a good person. I want you to know that— that," he's very close to say something akin to the truth.

"That you're _good_ , and I haven't been nice to you lately."

"That's not true—

"It is—

"You had a lot going on," Satoshi takes his elbow. This time, Gou willingly accepts the hug.

"I'm sorry, thank you."

"I feel like those are the only things you ever say to me," Satoshi squeezes his back.

It's still awkward, a bit uncomfortable, Gou feels the edges of his scar on the shoulder blades.

"It's okay," Satoshi continues, "you take your time, and I'll be here."

Gou nods in the crook of his neck, he reminds himself of the list attached on the door of his fridge, and listens.

* * *

They spend a few days just exploring Masara, Satoshi insists on paying a visit to the Okido’s laboratory and Gou gapes at the machinery there, and at the professor who seems very stressed indeed, but also oddly interested in Gou and it weirds him out for the whole hour they sit in front of each other.

Satoshi points to a tree and then to his old elementary school, it feels like a trip to a past he's never experienced, what with growing in a metropolis and all.

Satoshi is all smiles and they huddle in close because even if Masara is protected by the mountains it's still biting cold, a kind of cold Gou isn't used to. He shakes and rubs at his nose, Raboot eyes him warily because even with his fur the weather bites at him too.

"Here," Satoshi takes off his gloves.

"Ah, no," Gou tries to object but Satoshi scoffs and puts the gloves on with gruff care.

"If you're cold we'll walk back home, it's lunch time anyways," he says and takes him by the elbow, linking their arms.

Satoshi's legs are longer and Gou struggles a bit, almost slipping on the thin layer of ice forming over the roads.

"Masara's nice," Gou says, gripping at Satoshi's forearm to avoid cracking his head open, "When it doesn't try to kill me."

Satoshi lets out a laugh, patting his hand, "Honestly, it's prettier in summer, the river defrosts and you can swim in it," he brings Gou closer.

His breath catches in his throat, there's a thought he doesn't want to let die in his brain, he blames the blush on his face on the cold.

"Well, then," he stutters, "it means you'll have to invite me in the summer, too."

They're standing in front of his house, another thrilling laugh when he opens the door, the smell of food permeating the entrance.

"Sure, I'd love it."

Gou feels warmer, and he doesn’t have the heart to cringe at himself for the sentiment.

After they've eaten, Hanako puts him to work. It’s more like Gou willingly offers his help, but it’s weird being considered part of the family already, when all they’ve been doing is talking over tea and complaining about snow coming always earlier. 

She’s a nice, loving woman, that much is clear, but Gou was already aware of this detail, since Satoshi loves speaking about her, and it’s not difficult to see how he grew up to be very affectionate, seeing that Hanako always pats his back when she passes behind him.

He’s washing the bowls they used to eat lunch in, while Satoshi is helping with the heavy blankets left airing outside, when she joins him in the kitchen followed by Mr. Mime, carrying Sobble in his hands. 

“It’s nice having you two around, makes the house feel more lively,” Hanako says, she takes a dish rag and starts drying the cups.

“I’m sorry for imposing, by the way.”

“Oh, you,” she reprimands, shaking her head, “Didn’t I just tell you that it’s nice?” 

“‘Sides, when Satoshi calls it’s always Gou this and Gou that, I dare to say that I’ve been waiting to meet you for a while, now.”

Gou smiles embarrassed, he’s about to reply with something but Satoshi, arms full of blankets, comes inside and starts staggering towards the bedroom without being able to look where he’s putting his feet. Pikachu and Raboot are trying to give directions, but they’re not very efficient.

“Should we help him?” Gou asks, Hanako waves a hand towards Mr. Mime who shuffles comically on his feet before running towards the other man.

“You know, I might be a little too old for these things, but I still remember how they work,” she says, out of the blue.

Gou slows the movements of the sponge in his hand, throwing a careful glance towards the woman.

“Which… things?”

Hanako doesn’t look at him, they hear a tumble and a laugh from the other room. She keeps on drying the cups and plates Gou passes her after he’s cleaned them.

Instead of answering, she says, “I trust my son, and I’m sure he has good reasons, but he’s never been great with _just_ hints, even if they’re as big as a person and living in front of him,” she ties her low ponytail tighter and smiles at him.

Gou feels months of saliva stuck inside his throat, the tip of his tongue bitten under his teeth. 

Hanako looks at him with very kind eyes and what he imagines is the patience of growing up a kid alone while still relatively young, he puts down the plate he’s currently holding.

“Uhm,” he bites his lip, he thinks there’s no point in denying anything, even if the situation feels surreal, “I— he obviously doesn’t know.”

“I think he does.”

“How can you be so—

“Gou,” she says it like a mum would say _dear_ , like a mum would hug and kiss your knees after you’ve scraped them, “Call it a mother’s intuition,” she takes his hands in hers, still damp from the water of the sink.

"He'll wait forever if he thinks you're not sure, so the question is: are you sure?"

Gou thinks: is he sure? He knows he is, that's the thing. He thinks of his friends, and he stands solid on his beliefs, but if there's something they've all taught him is that the exceptions are always more than the rules, and that even a single person, as tiny as compared to a mountain, can drill a hole over the course of years, sometimes months.

He doesn't have to say anything, it must be clear on his face because Hanako just tells him to go.

"The dishes can wait."

* * *

Satoshi is taking off his sweater when Gou enters the room, the blankets are laid on the floor where the Pokémon are rolling joyfully on them, Mr. Mime's looking quite disgruntled, trying to avoid burns on the cloth.

"Oh, hey," he greets him, Satoshi only has a shirt on and his hair is fuzzy because the sweater is made of wool, they stand up on his head like when Pikachu rubs his cheeks on his face.

Gou feels his heart obstructing his throat, when he thought of these things, confessions and feelings and final resolutions, they were always grand. Done on a windy bridge, sitting on the roof of the building looking at the stars (and that was a missed occasion, he realises now), palpitations and a peculiar atmosphere.

Now, they’re in Satoshi’s childhood bedroom, in a tiny town asleep with the snow, Raboot and Sobble are hiding in the beddings while Pikachu is searching for them and Mr. Mime fusses over pillows and is cleaning the windowsill with an invisible duster, and Satoshi’s mother is outside the room, the cataclysm of the avalanche currently happening inside Gou’s body.

He takes a step closer, because it seems like the right thing to do, Satoshi’s nose is red, and there are freckles that with winter have kind of vanished, but they’re still present as the tiny speckle of gold in his eyes as the scar over his eyebrow that he’s made by falling on the edge of a table, as the bigger scars that he’s made trying to get Pikachu out. 

“W— this is going to sound _so_ weird,” he begins, “But, ah— he gulps down, “I’m— I don’t know where to start.”

Satoshi only cocks his head to the side, “Should I sit?”

“No, I mean, yeah, if you want to, but—

“Did my mum ask—

“No she very much did _not_ ask, but I think she made something clear— well clear _er_ and I need to tell you, or else we’ll never do anything and it’s been— it’s been a tiring year, if I have to be honest.”

“All...right?”

“And I thought I was destined to— be tired forever, you know? Just, being tired, every day. And then— I don’t want to make this— how—

“Hey, hey,” Satoshi _again_ takes his hands, moves him, Gou has to walk backwards, until they reach the lofted bed and Satoshi quite literally lifts him up to make him sit on it.

“Sorry, sorry, but it looked like you were about to faint,” he says after sitting on the mattress with him.

“I want— to tell you something. But you have to promise you won’t laugh.”

“I promise,” he sounds so earnest, Gou doesn’t doubt him.

“I created this system, you see, that should make my life easier. And it works, or I thought it did, and I created it in the first place because my first therapist said I should try and give my life a structure but the structure I gave my life was— faulty at best.”

Satoshi doesn’t interrupt him, he plays with Gou’s left hand, pushes the digits with his own and makes them press on the palm and Gou _knows_ what this is, because he’s sure his first therapist also said something about neural activation in times of anxiety and now’s the right time for neural activation, he thinks.

“But I didn’t realise it at first, because everything operated according to my assumptions and— and it drove me crazy whenever something acted in a way I didn’t plan for, but it wasn’t that I was mad at that thing, y’know, it was that— that I didn’t know how to react fast enough but the fact is,” he turns to him, “The fact is that I do know, now, and you—

Satoshi kisses him, and that’s a thought, which is a lie because Satoshi’s lips are very real under his own and Gou’s sure they are chapped. 

It’s just for a moment, Satoshi backs away and Gou takes a big gulp of panicked air before he feels Satoshi’s hand cradle his head, nestle in his hair.

“If you don’t want it—

“I want it, I really, really want it. Like you don’t even believe how much I want it.”

“Good,” another kiss, Gou expects this one but he’s still taken by the sheer amount of _Satoshi_ in it. 

Gou takes his hands and trails them up Satoshi’s arms, the feeling is oddly nice, the skin is soft, he tries to be delicate. He holds his face, he brings him closer. He hears the door opening and closing, but it’s subdued like he’s underwater, except he’s not drowning. 

It’s like dreaming of floating, except he’s not dreaming.

“I think, we should make clear—

“I like you, so much,” Satoshi says, wiggles his fingers over Gou’s cheeks and he covers his ears, squishing a bit, “From the first time I’ve seen you actually, I thought you were the most beautiful person ever,” he kisses his lips again moves until he can drag Gou over his lap and hug him like a Bewear.

Gou gets motionsick by the concept of being perceived, Satoshi just hugs him tighter, spans his hands over his back and Gou can feel it, like he's outside of himself, every ridge of his spine that Satoshi touches, every mole hidden under his shirt.

It's a tight fit on the bed, but their simple coexistence makes breathing a little bit easier, a little bit _nicer._

“Ah,” he lets out, Gou is giggling, he didn’t notice it before, but he’s letting out breathless giggles, “I’m so happy,” Satoshi kisses his cheek.

Gou puts his hands on Satoshi’s shoulders, to raise his torso. He kisses him once on the lips, and then again for good measure, then a third time, to be even.

“It feels— quite surreal.”

“I swear, I was so close that night on the roof. Just—" he lets out a groan, "You were so— it's unfair how _nice_ you are."

Gou laughs, "You're not so bad yourself," his thumbs are at the sides of the other’s mouth, pressing down, caressing away the skin and the laughter lines.

“Your mother said— she said you’d wait forever and—

Satoshi interrupts him, nodding with a kiss, “I would—

“I don’t want to be scared anymore. I want to be with you and— and maybe be scared sometimes but I want to know I also get to kiss you every day.”

“You’ll get to kiss me every minute if that’s okay with you.”

“That’s okay with me.”

* * *

Gou wakes up with drool over his cheeks and pillow, the alarm clock beeping inconsiderably loud in the cold February morning. 

“Koharu sent you a message,” Satoshi says, bending to pick up Pikachu sleeping on the carpet next to the bed.

Gou lets out a disgruntled noise, turning away from the light seeping through the window Satoshi opened, because he’s evil and because he knows Gou will gladly sleep the morning away otherwise.

“Time ‘sit.”

“Seven thirty, there’s miso soup on the table and Raboot is coming with me to the centre,” he sits on the bed, when Gou opens one eye to squint at him he sees him already dressed. 

“Want a kiss?”

Gou nods, head still half buried in the pillow. Satoshi brings his hair back with one hand while he bows down and kisses the side of his nose, Gou follows him, slightly turns his head so their lips can touch.

He worms his arms out of the covers, to bring Satoshi with him, and he goes willingly, acting as a second blanket.

"How're the scars?" Gou asks, sweeping his hands over the other's shoulder blades.

Satoshi hums, he keeps leaving kisses all over Gou's face, and he can hear Raboot starting to complain because they're not outside running and exercising and being healthy. 

Gou thinks he deserves to be given a bit of slack time to time. 

"They're fine, a bit tight, but it's probably the weather," a kiss under his eyelid.

"I'll get the ointment when I finish with work, then," he mutters, finally meeting Satoshi's lips, stretched in a smile.

"You're great, I love you," he whispers in between, and it _is_ great. And he loves him.

Satoshi always slips the words in every sentence he can, and even if it's just an afterthought there's the depth of the feeling that never changes. Gou wraps his arms tighter, mutters the words back to him.

“Speaking of work, how are we feeling?”

Gou smiles softly, sits up and takes the covers with him, pooling at his waist and he knows his head’s a mess, it usually is, but that’s also the first thing Satoshi saw of him. 

He looks at him now with the same kind of eyes, which is logical because those _are_ his eyes, but the point is different and years ago he wouldn't have thought of himself as a person who cared about these things.

“Nervous,” he admits, “but not a bad kind of nervous.”

“That’s good, yeah?” Satoshi takes his hand and leaves a kiss on the palm, “I’ll talk to you later, I’ve got a morning class and the ladies are waiting for me.”

“Sure,” Gou says to Satoshi’s back.

“See you later.”

**Author's Note:**

> whew this is definitely not the best (or the longest for all that matters) thing i've written but maybe the one i've struggled with the most.  
> i'm rly sorry it gets messy at a certain point because i didn't know how to solve the problems i created, which is usually something i have to face pretty often but not when it comes to the things i write, so i got stuck with a 20k monster in the middle of october and i let it rot until my friends helped me. weird, i know, to my friends, i'm also sorry i'm a pain in the ass i hope this doesn't completely suck!  
> anyways, if i have to reread this one more time i will carve my eyes out but if you DO read it i'd be super happy if u'd... u know...leave a comment and some kudos because it's almost holyday season and this was never supposed to be that kind of fic but it is. 
> 
> (you can look at me like i'm an encaged animal here [tumblr](https://creamation.tumblr.com/) or here [twitter ](https://twitter.com/mensmentis))
> 
> EDIT: [StarStickerX](https://starstickerx.tumblr.com/) on tumblr made this [gorgeous fanart](https://starstickerx.tumblr.com/post/637427132654583808/yamperrr-was-calling-me-out-the-other-night-about) !!! be sure to check it out


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